


Sick of Losing Soulmates, So Where do we Begin?

by Percyjacksonfan3, yourstrulytay



Series: won't be alone again [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotionally Constipated Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurts So Good, I PROMISE THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING, M/M, Magic Revealed, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Episode: s02e08 The Sins Of The Father, so much..... angst, they love each other but they are just so DUMB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 94,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26870281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Percyjacksonfan3/pseuds/Percyjacksonfan3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourstrulytay/pseuds/yourstrulytay
Summary: Set after episode eight of season two, Merlin reveals his magic to Arthur. Hurt and betrayed, Arthur exiles him from Camelot, but enemies are closer than they may appear. Now Merlin has to risk it all in order to keep the ones he loves out of harm's way - even if it means Arthur may never trust him again.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: won't be alone again [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118648
Comments: 212
Kudos: 391





	1. I let my guard down, then you pulled the rug

**Author's Note:**

> After social-distance-binge-watching Merlin for a couple months, Lau and I came up with this idea. Both of us adored the show when we were younger and began to watch it together over video chat as something to do during quarantine and one night I jokingly threw out the idea to write a fic together. Eventually the joke turned serious and we began to plot it out over google docs. This has been a months long labour of love and we sooo hope y'all enjoy it!!!
> 
> Fic title from the song Sick of Losing Soulmates by dodie.
> 
> Chapter titles from Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi and Bruises by Lewis Capaldi (do you sense a theme lmao)

The day Merlin ruins everything starts out perfectly.

The weather’s gorgeous, Merlin hasn’t screwed up any orders from Arthur or Gaius lately and Uther is actually smiling at some people instead of glaring at anyone who breathes the same air he does. Somehow, despite what they’d all been through in the past month, everyone seems happy. 

It had turned into the best day of Merlin’s life and he had just thought- things had been going _so well_ , if there was ever a perfect time to push his luck it had been then. 

Well. So he’d thought.

After everything that had happened with Morgause, and Arthur seeing Ygraine only to learn of the horrible things his father had done, Merlin had decided the prince needed a break. Luckily Uther was still feeling charitable towards Merlin for stopping Arthur from killing him in the throne room and so, after a few minutes of beseeching on Merlin’s part and unimpressed glaring on Uther’s, it was agreed upon. 

Arthur would get a day off. 

_One day_ that Merlin had fought for because they both desperately needed it. He had watched Arthur during this morning's drills with the knights and seen the look in his eyes. Arthur’s heart wasn’t in it anymore, his mind was elsewhere, and Merlin’s heart broke to see it. It hurt even more to know that he had helped cause it.

Initially the plan had just been that. To have one day away from the castle and the town for the two of them to get some space. He’d had no intention of confessing about his magic or the truth of Ygraine and Uther or any of the strange things they’d been through in the past two years. All Merlin had wanted was a nice day for the two of them to help make Arthur happy again.

And that’s exactly what he’d got.

He’d been on his best behaviour. The sun had been rising when he’d woken Arthur up and cajoled him into following him to the stables (where two horses were saddled, loaded and waiting, thank you Merlin). Arthur had complained, questioned and demanded in that order about where they were going and what they were doing, but Merlin had only smiled and promised that everything was fine and Merlin had the entire day planned. 

Merlin had kept the teasing and taunts light and sparked the first hint of competition and drive he’d seen in Arthur in days. He’d even suggested hunting, which Arthur had raised an eyebrow at but agreed to, accepting the crossbow with questioning but appreciative eyes. 

The catch had been small, because Merlin had made sure to be loud enough to scare the smarter animals away, but two rabbits and a few birds hadn’t been so lucky, and so from the morning on Arthur had been in a better mood than Merlin had seen in what felt like ages.

“Alright, Merlin, out with it.” Arthur makes it to lunch before losing the last of his patience. He’s actually helping, which only happens when it’s just to the two of them and he trusts Merlin not to laugh as he roughly skins the meat. “What’s brought all this on?”

“Nothing.” Merlin evades, making the meat cubes as fine as he can before skewering them to hold over the fire. They’ve scrounged up a few berries, filled their water skins and have the dinner rolls and cheese Merlin had remembered to fetch from the castle kitchens to complete their meal. All in all it’s not a bad spread. 

“You are the absolute worst liar, I hope you know that.”

“Maybe.” He admits only because he wants to stop that conversation in its tracks.

“So? Come on, tell me. Not that I don’t appreciate the day off but I find it hard to believe my father allowed it without a fight.”

“Really? Sounds exactly like Uther to me.”

“Watch it,” Arthur points the newly wiped knife blade at him but Merlin only grins before looking back down at their lunch. “But really, are you actually not going to tell me?”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Maybe I just wanted a day off and used you as an excuse to get it.”

“We both know you’re a lazy sod but I don’t think you’re that hard done,” Arthur replied. “In fact I _know_ you’re not; my armour hasn’t been polished in days.”

“It has so! And I am not!”

Arthur grins at the offense on Merlin’s face, making him narrow his eyes and mutter under his breath about prattish princes and clotpoles.

“I heard that,” Arthur says easily, but he seems to have given up on badgering Merlin for the moment as he lays on the grass under the trees, the sun shining down warm on his face through the leaves and branches. 

For a moment Merlin allows himself to stare. Just a second where he takes in the gold of Arthur’s hair and eyelashes, the muscles in his folded arms as he rests his head on his hands and closes his eyes to soak in a bit of light and warmth. 

He looks happy and at peace, all thoughts of his father, mother and magic far away. Right now it’s just them alone in a place they’d made their own. Arthur had no reason to be on guard or put on a show, and the trust he placed in Merlin to not judge him for simply being himself is enough to tempt Merlin into being just as genuine and honest.

“I thought we both deserved a break.” He finally answers, the smell of nicely cooked rabbit reaching his nose. He waits just a second though, watching as Arthur’s eyes flutter open to look back at him. 

He understands, of course he does. This is Arthur, and despite all of Merlin’s jokes, the crown prince of Camelot isn’t stupid. Arthur knows what Merlin is really saying, understands the true reason the two of them are out here today. 

Appreciation is too small of a word for the emotion that fills his eyes, but Merlin knows better than to tempt himself by reading into it further.

“Things have been busy lately, I suppose.” Arthur acknowledges lightly, eyes closing again, and Merlin agrees silently while turning back to preparing their lunch.

They eat slowly, neither of them in a rush, and it’s nice. Their conversation goes from how the newest batch of knight trainees are doing to Merlin complaining about Gaius and the chores he sets for him for his unofficial position as physician-in-training.

“Do you actually like all of that stuff?” Arthur’s nose wrinkles. “The poultices and herbs and things?”

He ponders the question for a bit. There are things he likes more, that’s for sure, like teasing Arthur at feasts and spending time with the knights or gossiping with Gwen. But then there’s jobs far worse than healing, like mucking out the stables and cleaning Arthur’s chambers. 

Really Merlin doesn’t mind the work he does with Gaius. He’s nowhere near as passionate as the older man, obviously, but he’s proud of what he does know and he likes the idea of healing others and helping them. 

“Mostly,” he says before tacking on. “It’s nice to be useful.”

Arthur’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean? You’re useful.”

“Sure,” Merlin scoffs, eating another berry. As far as Arthur knows Merlin is nothing more than a particularly awful servant. “But anybody could be your manservant, couldn’t they? It doesn’t take much to dress you in the morning or oil some armour. But healing… I understand it, for the most part, and it’s something I’m good at. Something I can do that most people can’t. That’s nice.”

Arthur takes that in quietly. “I suppose that’s what I have in being a knight. Something I’m good at which helps others.”

“I suppose you’re pretty good, yeah.”

Arthur shoots him a look as Merlin continues.

“I mean you’re no Sir Leon, but-”

“Merlin?”

“Hmm?”

“Shut up.”

“Right.” Merlin agrees, lips pressed together, before he bursts out laughing, unable to help it. Arthur stares at him incredulously before the corner of his mouth twitches and he begins to laugh as well, obviously unable to stop himself.

By the time they recover, Arthur is shaking his head. “Gods, sometimes I wonder about you.”

“Not as often as people wonder about you, I can promise you that.”

“Oi! I’m the prince of Camelot, you imbecile.”

Merlin sighed and acts put upon. “Princes can be dim too, Arthur.”

“Not this prince!”

“Maybe,” Merlin allows, falling back to lie beside him, soaking up some of the rare sun. He’s glad today ended up being so lovely, he doubts either of them would be in such good spirits if it was raining incessantly the entire time they were away.

“No maybe about it. I am not dim.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Merlin!”

“Alright, alright,” Merlin rubs the spot on his shin that Arthur had kicked. “Fine.”

It might have seemed an unbelievable sight to anybody passing by, the two of them, prince and servant, lying side by side in the forest basking in the sun with full bellies. But that only made it more special for Merlin. No matter what either of them pretended around other people, their relationship wasn’t normal, even if you ignored the whole destiny thing. They broke social conventions left and right and had been through more together than any other pair of friends Merlin knew. 

Arthur might appreciate it when Merlin did things like today, but Merlin appreciated it when Arthur treated him as an equal even more. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to feel this way about Arthur and yet. Here they were.

Merlin should probably avoid thinking things like that. But it was getting harder and harder not to. 

They rest for a little while longer and Merlin might even doze off for a bit but when Arthur nudges him lightly he forces his eyes open to look back at the prince already watching him.

“Come on,” Arthur says quietly, almost gentle, as if he’s afraid to break the stillness around them. There’s a strange feeling in the air but it’s not uncomfortable so Merlin doesn’t comment on it. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” Merlin asks, sitting up with a stretch, grinning when he feels the muscles in his back and shoulder shift satisfyingly. 

Arthur pauses for only a moment. “I think I fancy a bit of a swim, don’t you?”

With a grin Merlin stands up to hurriedly pack their things and follow him.

* * *

They stay out later than planned. 

First of all, they must have rested after lunch for far longer than Merlin thought because it seems they only swim for an hour or two before the sun begins to set. Then Arthur challenges him to a race (which he then wins, the prat) and tries to show Merlin some fighting techniques before giving up due to Merlin’s total and complete lack of interest.

By that point they’ve wandered around so much that they’re lost (“I thought you were keeping track of where we were going!” 

“Me? I’m not the hunter out of the two us!” 

“No, but you are the fool who suggested we come out on this stupid adventure!” 

“You’re the stupid one!” 

“You take that back.” 

“No.” 

“Merlin!” 

“Ow!”) and they end up just walking through the trees side by side before finding a cave. 

Merlin takes one look at it and perks up. “Let’s explore it.”

“Merlin…”

“Come on. Scared?”

That’s all it takes. Arthur’s eyes narrow and Merlin knows he’s victorious. “Not at all. I was just trying to spare your delicate nature, but if you’re sure you aren’t afraid…”

“Who me?” 

They tie the horses to the nearest tree and Merlin leads the way, but apart from a few markings on the wall there’s not much to find. Arthur points out what a waste of time it was and Merlin sticks his tongue out at him but silently agrees and takes the reins of their horses to follow Arthur as they begin to walk again.

Dusk settles just as they reach a familiar clearing with remnants of another person’s fire. They’re close to the edge of the trees now, which means Camelot is only a couple of hours ride away.

“Let’s eat.” Arthur says abruptly, stopping in the center of the space and making Merlin stumble as he leads the horses. 

“You don’t want to wait until we get back to the castle?” He pictures the mince pies Cook was preparing for the household’s dinner today and feels his mouth water.

“In a rush all of a sudden, are you Merlin?”

“No.” He says back, tying the horses up easily. “If your princely backside feels able to spend another hour out here then by all means, let's.”

“Merlin, out of the two of us I think it’s me who’s been a part of more stake outs.”

Merlin can’t actually dispute that because they both know it to be true and so he opts to just say nothing instead as he pulls one of the ducks from Arthur’s hunting bag to begin plucking it. The mood between them is easy and Merlin smiles to himself when Arthur begins collecting a few more things for a fire of his own volition. A few moments later after a few muttered swears of frustration he hears the prince let out an impatient huff. 

“Come here and start the fire, I’ll finish that.”

So Merlin hands the half-plucked bird to Arthur, their hands brushing briefly, before taking up the two abandoned stones to try and make a spark. While Arthur is busy frowning down at the bird Merlin reaches out a hand, fingers splayed, and whispers a spell quietly under his breath to make a flame.

“I don’t know how you always manage to do that when the rest of us can’t,” Arthur says from behind him, but he’s not grudging. In fact he sounds appreciative and fond and it makes something in Merlin’s chest tighten a bit as he studiously pokes the fire to build it.

“Just practice I suppose. Since I’ve been doing it my whole life.”

Arthur nods, face pensive as he pondered something. “Sometimes I forget you know. That everybody doesn’t live like I always have.” It’s quiet for a moment. “That you haven’t always lived in the castle.”

Merlin pauses for a moment, unsure about the turn that the conversation has taken. “We can’t all be royalty.”

“No.” He still sounds distant as he stares down at the bird his fingers are moving over. “It must have been hard. To not have servants helping you with things. And I know Ealdor struggles with harvest sometimes-”

“Arthur, where’s all this coming from?” It’s a gentle interruption but a flash of frustration still crosses the prince’s face. 

“I don’t know. I suppose I just… I know I don’t show it a lot, Merlin, but I do appreciate the things you do for me.”

Merlin waits, knowing that can’t be all.

“What you did… stopping me with my father.” Arthur stops as if testing the words. “Another servant wouldn’t have bothered. Or even cared.”

Merlin feels his heart fall. 

Just when he thought they’d been distancing themselves from that, after he’d spent so much time telling himself he had done the right thing, now Arthur chooses to bring it up again? 

Maybe they do need to talk about it, but Merlin finds himself disappointed all the same. 

“You were overwhelmed and so you weren’t thinking,” Merlin says firmly. “But I know you would have regretted it.”

“You’re right.” Arthur agrees, finally looking back up to meet his eyes. “But I can’t help but wonder- how did you know? That it was all a trick?”

Merlin swallows. How can he answer without lying to Arthur again? 

“The succession of one monarch to another always creates instability. A sure way to weaken Camelot would have been to kill Uther before his time. And if you’d been the one to do it…” 

Kinslaying wasn’t taken lightly, and for Arthur to kill his own father seemingly out of nowhere might have been difficult for the citizens of Camelot to accept, even if they had no love for their current king. In fact it might have frightened them into thinking they were exchanging one power-hungry homicidal ruler for another.

Arthur’s eyes search him for a long time. Merlin feels horrible. “Thank you. You’re right I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking. Especially not about any of that.”

Merlin nods but now both of them were maudlin. They sit in silence for a few seconds until Arthur thrusts the duck at Merlin.

“Here. Why am I doing this? You’re supposed to be my manservant, not the other way around.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Some manual labour might be good for you.”

“Preparing a duck is hardly manual labour, Merlin.”

“How would you know? You’ve never plucked a full one before. Not to mention cutting off the head and feet, taking out the insides and then there’s stuffing it if you want to be really fancy-”

“Yes, thank you, alright.” Arthur grouses while laying down beside the fire, arms crossed behind his head. “Just get on with it, will you? I’m hungry.”

“So much for gratitude,” Merlin mutters.

Arthur laughs.

Despite their complaining, dinner doesn’t take long. Arthur eats most of it and Merlin picks at a wing and a leg but finds his stomach is too nervous for him to eat much.

He just can’t stop thinking about all of the lies he’s been telling lately. It isn’t just about his magic anymore, or knocking out a few guards here and there. He’s lied to Arthur about his mother, and despite his best effort, Merlin can’t forgive himself for it.

He knows what it’s like to grow up wondering about a parent and he knows that if there is somebody to blame for his father not being in his life he would want to know.

Somehow this betrayal to Arthur added to the rest is too much for Merlin, and more than ever he wants to just take the risk and tell Arthur everything.

Is he really scared that Arthur will kill him? Or tell Uther and then allow _Uther_ to kill him? Maybe in the beginning his fear had been reasonable but now, after all they’ve been through and everything they are to one another, Merlin can’t imagine being afraid of Arthur. If their positions were reversed he knows he would forgive Arthur and keep the magic secret.

But would Arthur feel the same way? He’s just been confronted with another sorceress that Merlin has convinced him is evil, and they’ve been suffering from magic users since Merlin has arrived in the kingdom. 

Yet Arthur was willing to turn on Uther and acknowledge it was him who convinced everyone that magic is to be feared. Surely that showed Arthur has doubts? Maybe if he sees that Merlin is a sorcerer, somebody he trusts and cares about, he could show Arthur the truth; that magic is just a tool, the same as a blade, and it is the person who wields it that makes it good or evil.

He watches Arthur finish Merlin’s offered duck leg. This man is his best friend, someone he has come to care about more than he had ever thought possible. They’ve just spent what was likely the best day of Merlin’s life together. A day where it has been just the two of them with no interruptions or problems from the outside world to come between them. He accepted Arthur completely, pride and arrogance and all. Was it so ridiculous for him to believe that Arthur could accept him too?

No, he decides as their eyes meet and Arthur gives him a small and easy smile. No it’s not. 

So, with every part of him tensed in preparation, with shaking hands pressed between his thighs and scared eyes, Merlin speaks. “Arthur, I need to tell you something.” 

That’s not good, not at all. His voice is too quiet, he sounds terrified, and even though he is, Merlin definitely doesn’t want Arthur to see or hear that. 

He’s choosing to do this, he reminds himself. This is for them, because Arthur is his best friend and the brightest most important thing Merlin has ever known or had in his life. And the weight of the guilt from lying to him is more than Merlin can bear anymore.

He’d forced himself to stand in that throne room and lie to Arthur’s face about his mother’s death. Merlin is the reason Arthur still believes magic is evil, now more than ever. 

And then he’d had to bear Uther _thanking_ him. He’d chosen Uther over Arthur and that made Merlin feel sick.

After everything he’s just been through Arthur deserves the truth. Merlin is not going to be like Uther, he refuses to allow himself to be, and so he needs to tell Arthur everything. They both deserve that. 

“Alright,” Arthur looked over in surprise, probably more at Merlin’s tone than the actual words. “If we’re actually out here because you’ve angered Gaius and you’re hiding then I forgive you. At least you wrangled me a day off out of it too, even if I was an excuse.”

“No.” Merlin’s tongue feels thick in his mouth as he swallows. “It- I…”

Finally Arthur seemed to sense Merlin’s anxiety. “Merlin?”

“You know how I feel about you,” Merlin began seriously and he saw Arthur’s eyes widen in shock. 

This wasn’t like them, he knew. When it came to feelings and emotions they joked and teased one another and then continued on with their lives, secure in the knowledge they were each on the same page despite never being allowed to actually say any of their real feelings out loud. When they couldn’t do that they spoke simply, quickly, and they moved on (“If I wasn’t a prince”, “I think we’d probably get on”, “I’m happy to serve you. Until the day I die.”). 

Merlin is breaking the rules. 

This isn’t something they can just joke about and ignore. It would never go away and it could never be pushed to the side. 

He can’t help but wonder though, taking in Arthur’s frozen expression, what the prince thinks he’s about to say. There is something he hopes- but that can’t be it. That is only Merlin’s own foolish fantasies rising so they can disappoint him later.

(Because Merlin does have one other secret that he will continue to hide from Arthur. Now is not the time, there will probably never be a time, and he’s accepted that. Something more personal than his magic, something that, if Arthur rejects him for it, would break his heart. So it will stay with him because Merlin’s bravery only goes so far. Especially now that Arthur is falling in love with Gwen.)

“You’re my best friend.” He says what neither of them have ever said outright to one another and it only shocks Arthur more. “And, despite your more dollophead moments, I care about you. And Camelot.”

“Merlin.” Arthur sounds deadly serious, but more than that he sounds concerned and slightly scared as he moves to come near him and rest his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “Are you leaving? Is it something to do with your mother?”

Merlin blinks as tears suddenly prick at the back of his eyes.

“Is that what today has been?” Arthur clears his throat but it doesn’t make him sound any less nervous. “A goodbye?”

“No.” Merlin whispers, looking at Arthur’s shoulder rather than meeting his piercing gaze. “At least, I hope not.”

Arthur’s hand squeezes Merlin’s shoulder briefly as a new thought strikes the prince. “Are you sick?”

Merlin shakes his head. “Nothing like that.”

“Then what?” Arthur pulls away, still looking wary but no longer panicked. “I swear to the gods if you’re making me worry when it’s nothing then-”

“I’m a sorcerer.” Merlin says, the words wrenched out like they’ve been beaten from him. They come out breathily, so quiet he wouldn’t be surprised if Arthur hadn’t heard, despite the fact they’re standing so close together Merlin can see his chest rise and fall, and the way his movements stop all at once. 

So he swallows, though he has nothing to help his dry throat, and he tries again. “I have magic.”

Arthur jerks this time as if he’s been hit. “Merlin…”

“And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you.”

“Merlin stop.” The prince’s voice is harsh and Merlin flinches. “Stop it, alright? It’s not funny.”

Merlin only stares at him helplessly. “I’m serious.”

Arthur looks back, just as powerless. When he speaks he sounds small, and young, and it’s the most shaken that Merlin has ever seen him. 

“You can’t be.”

Merlin opens his mouth but Arthur speaks over him.

“You can’t be, because I would know. I would have- you wouldn’t have kept that from me.”

Merlin blinks again, trying to hold back the threatening tears as he raises a hand slowly. “Look, I’ll- I’ll show you.”

Arthur only stares at him. He doesn’t even move for his sword strapped on his horse, he just stares as if Merlin’s words have broken him. 

With his heart in his throat Merlin murmurs the spell. He knows his eyes flare golden by Arthur’s sharp inhalation just before the sparks from the fire lift to form a small dragon that curls up in Merlin’s palm.

He watches Arthur but there’s no reaction. There’s nothing, except the prince’s eyes locked onto the dragon without moving.

So Merlin looks too. And it’s in that instant, where he stops watching Arthur, that Arthur twists towards his horse to grab the pommel of his sword and unsheathe it to point waveringly at Merlin’s throat.

The dragon in his hand vanishes as Merlin raises his palms nervously.

“Arthur-”

“Not another word.” The prince hisses, but there’s something false about the fury and disgust in the tone of his words. As Merlin watches he sees the sheen of tears that Arthur is trying to hold back. He sees the brokenness of the betrayal Arthur is trying to hide.

The knowledge of this makes him feel sick.

“Please.” He begs. One of his own tears falls. “Please let me explain.”

Arthur doesn’t appear to hear him. “You’re a liar.”

Merlin’s eyes close as the words hit. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve lied to me all this time.” Arthur still doesn’t sound like he’s listening. His face is contorted into a pained grimace but the words are spoken simply and somehow that hurts more than the anger from seconds ago. The sudden acceptance from Arthur that their entire friendship has been false, as if it is that easy to believe.

Everything changes so quickly that Merlin isn’t able to keep up.

“Not about everything. Not the important things.”

Arthur stares at him in bewilderment, voice broken and fragile. “This isn’t important?”

Merlin would have shaken his head if the sword wasn’t still pressing dangerously close to his skin. The fact that it is trembling in Arthur’s hand isn’t reassuring. “I’m still the same person.”

Something hardens in Arthur’s eyes and abruptly he sheathes his sword.

“No, Merlin. You’re not.” He turns away to stand beside his mare. “Get on your horse. We’re heading back.”

“Arthur please-”

“Get on the horse, Merlin. I won’t tell you again.”

The look on Arthur’s face is unwavering and his voice is cold.

Merlin gets on the horse and, when Arthur nudges his own horse to move, Merlin follows silently behind him.

* * *

But neither of them can just leave it there. Merlin’s just surprised that barely ten minutes from the trees it’s Arthur who surrenders first to break the silence between them.

“Why did you come here?”

Merlin frowns, though Arthur never looks back to see it. “You know why.”

“And you expect me to believe that was the real reason? You didn’t feel like you belonged in Cenred’s kingdom, a kingdom where magic is legal, so you chose to come here to a place where it’s outlawed?”

Merlin grips the reins tightly in his hands, making his horse snort unhappily. “My mother sent me to Gaius because she thought he would give me a home. A place I could be safe.”

“Camelot will never be safe for you.” Arthur bites back, finally looking over his shoulder just in time to see Merlin flinch.

Merlin swallows. “Maybe not while Uther is king. But you-”

“If anybody has good reason to hate magic it’s me. You’ve proved that once again today.”

Merlin doesn’t reply.

“So is that what your plan was? To become my friend, to ingratiate yourself into my life, only so that you could get in my head and convince me to repeal the ban on magic?”

“No.”

“Then why?” Arthur twists further in the saddle before seeming to grow frustrated and pulling his horse to a stop. Merlin stops his mare beside him. “Why would you _stay_?”

Blue eyes search him desperately and all over again Merlin sees the things Arthur is trying to hide. He looks so lost, as if Merlin has taken everything he knows and revealed it to be a lie. He’s searching for something but Merlin doesn’t know what. If he did he would give it to him in a heartbeat.

“At first it was because I was told it was my destiny.”

“Destiny?”

“To help you become the greatest king this land will ever know.”

Arthur blinks but recovers quickly. “But now?”

“I already told you.” It’s not so hard to say it now that Merlin has admitted it once already. “You’re my best friend and I-”

“Enough.” Arthur cuts him off abruptly and spurs his horse onwards, forcing Merlin to do the same if they want to stay close enough to speak.

But he doesn’t think there’s anything else he can say. Still, he waits, because knowing Arthur, there will be more. 

And he’s right.

“So if I’m your best friend then why not tell me sooner? If you’ve felt so guilty all this time, if I ever really meant anything to you, why lie?”

Merlin swallows nervously. “You’d have cut my head off.”

He sees the way Arthur’s shoulders tense and this time he does think that’s it, the conversation is done, until a few seconds later the prince speaks again. “I’m not sure what I’d have done.”

Merlin tries not to get his hopes up at that. “And I didn’t want to put you in that position.”

Arthur’s expression is disbelieving and slightly incredulous. “That’s what worried you?”

Merlin shrugs. It was the truth.

They must be an hour from the city when Arthur speaks again. For the first time it occurs to Merlin that he’s being interrogated and he doesn’t know how he feels at the knowledge.

“So why now then?” Arthur asks. “Why can you put this on my shoulders now? What’s changed?”

For the first time it’s Merlin who avoids Arthur’s eyes, staring straight ahead towards the vague sight of Camelot and its castle in the distance in the falling dark. 

“I’m not sure,” he says. “With everything that happened lately… I suppose I just couldn’t bear to lie to you anymore.” He can feel Arthur’s stare boring into the side of his head. “And I- I guess I hoped that if I told you now, with no one forcing me, maybe you would understand.” His voice goes quiet. “Maybe you would forgive me.”

Arthur’s only response to that is to kick his horse and make her break into a trot so they’ll reach Camelot faster.

Neither of them say another word until they reach the city. 

They ride to the palace steps and after they both dismount Arthur hesitates for barely a moment before thrusting his reins at Merlin. 

“Unsaddle and stable them,” he orders. “Bring the bags in and make sure everything’s put away and given to Cook. Then come to my chambers.”

“Arthur-” 

“Do it. And speak to absolutely nobody.” He turns away sharply to go inside. 

Merlin stares after him for far too long before doing what he asked, wondering the entire time whether he shouldn’t just take his horse and escape while he still has the chance.

But of course he doesn’t. He’s made his decision after all and now all that’s left for him to do is wait for Arthur’s judgement.

It seems barely minutes later before the horses are unburdened and freshly brushed, fed and watered. Other stablekeeps have put fresh hay in the stalls after mucking them out and so Merlin reluctantly leaves to drop off the remaining two rabbits and bird at the kitchen before heading up to Arthur’s room.

He slips in without knocking and isn’t surprised to find his friend standing in the dimly lit room in front of the window, staring out of it with his arms crossed and his back to Merlin. The fire is going and a few candles are flickering on the tables and mantle, but they only serve to cast shadows in the room and make Merlin think that he sees movement where there is none.

“I’m surprised you didn’t run.”

Merlin hesitates, noting the empty tone Arthur still has. “I wasn’t sure if I needed to.”

Arthur still doesn’t turn around. Merlin doesn’t know whether to be happy he trusted him enough to turn his back to him or sad because of the cold silence between them. 

That was a lie. He knew he wouldn’t be happy unless Arthur forgave him.

“I hoped you would.” Arthur replies before sighing and finally angling to look at him. His arms were tense and his sword rested unsheathed right in front of him across his desk, but his expression was helpless. “You can’t stay here, Merlin. I can’t trust a sorcerer.”

And just like that it was over. The happiest day of Merlin’s life quickly turned into the worst as Arthur broke his heart in ten words. 

“Especially one who’s lied to me for years.” 

“I haven’t-” Merlin tries but when he sees the anger on Arthur’s face he bites his tongue.

“I let you into my life, into the heart of Camelot. You know far more than you should because of my foolishness and I can’t…” He shakes his head and turns away again. “I’ve told you things that nobody else knows. You’ve been around me, around Morgana, my _father_ , Merlin, you’ve had so many opportunities to hurt us-”

“I’ve never-”

“My father kills people like you!” Arthur shouts, whirling around fully. “He would have you burned in front of my eyes tomorrow if he knew what you are! And you expect me to believe that you’ve never wanted to stop him?”

Merlin swallows again. It was true that he sometimes hated Uther. He feared him, certainly. And maybe sometimes he wondered, if the opportunity presented itself, whether it might not be easier to just let someone kill the king so Arthur could take his place. 

But Merlin had never thought to do it himself. And though there was only one reason for that, it was strong enough to make Merlin protect Uther the best he could. “He’s your father, Arthur. You love him.”

Their eyes hold until Arthur speaks woodenly. “You could have let me kill him.”

“That would have destroyed you.”

The only sound in the room is their labored breathing as both of them take in the other. 

“My destiny,” Merlin says finally, “is to protect you. And that means protecting Camelot and Uther and anything else you care about until you’re ready to become the greatest king this land has ever known. The king you’re destined to be.”

If Merlin had hoped those words would help they seemed to have the opposite effect as Arthur looks more torn now than ever. “How can I trust anything you say to me?”

Merlin looks away. “I told you, because I couldn’t lie to you anymore. But Arthur I- I’m still the same person. I’m still me.”

Arthur shakes his head. “You’re not. You’re not the same at all.” His voice cracks. “You’re a stranger to me.”

“Arthur-”

“I should kill you.” Arthur still sounds hollow. “I should run you through right now. Or at least throw you in the dungeons.”

“I could escape.” Merlin had never done it before because it would have been too risky but he knew he could. None of the cells in Camelot were strong enough to hold him, except, maybe, Kilgarrah’s.

Arthur's face contorts in an expression that makes Merlin ache. “Merlin,” he sounds absolutely wrecked. “What am I supposed to do?”

Merlin sucks in a deep breath. “I don’t think I should be the one to answer that.”

Arthur laughs bitterly. “Who else can I ask?” And then he stops, head turning sharply to look at him again as the question strikes. “Who else knows?”

“Erm.” Merlin scuffs his boot on Arthur’s floor.

“Gaius? Others?”

Merlin keeps his mouth shut as Arthur stares at him.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“No.” Merlin says softly. “Not if you’re going to hurt them.”

“I’m not even hurting you!”

“You’re thinking about it!” Merlin exclaims. “Arthur, I chose to come to Camelot knowing I had magic, knowing I would be breaking the law. I didn’t choose to be your manservant, but I’ve had years to leave and never did. I’ll accept whatever you do to me, but I won’t let you hurt anyone else just because they kept me safe.”

“Safe.” Arthur says distantly. “From me.”

“From Uther.” Merlin corrects gently.

Hearing his father’s name makes Arthur close off again. Several beats pass before he speaks again, once again facing the window.

“Go to bed, Merlin.”

Confusion makes him twitch. “What?”

“Go to bed. And don’t tell anybody what you told me.” Arthur pauses. “I’ll tell you what I decide.”

“We can’t ignore this, Arthur, please. I’m sorry, I would go back if I could, but I’ve told you now and we need to deal with it.” Merlin stares at him beseechingly. “You can’t just expect me to let you push me away.”

“You do not let me do anything, Merlin. And it’s my fault that you’ve never seemed to understand that.” Arthur says angrily. “Now do as I say and go back to your room until I say you can leave them.”

They angrily hold each other’s stares but Arthur shows no sign of backing down and Merlin knows he isn’t going to win this battle. Not this time. 

So he goes. But not without getting the last word.

“I would never hurt you. I couldn’t. And I’m sorry if you don’t believe that anymore.”

Then he leaves, going out the door just as quietly as he had come in.

* * *

Merlin is woken by the bag of food and clothes Arthur throws on him. 

“What the-”

“Here.” Arthur cuts him off as Merlin rubs the sleep out of his eyes and sits up. When his sight clears he sees the prince standing in his room staring down at him with hard eyes. “You’re leaving Camelot. Tonight.”

“I- what?”

“I would banish you except that would mean everything would become public and I’d have to give a reason to the court. This way you can escape with nobody hunting you and- and that will be it.”

A stone falls in Merlin’s stomach, making him feel sick as he scrambles desperately. “Arthur, no please-”

“This isn’t up for discussion, Merlin.” The prince turns away to walk towards the door. “You can’t stay here.”

“But I can’t leave you! I have to protect you, it’s our destiny to-”

“I don’t want you here.” Arthur says vehemently, turning around quickly with his eyes flashing icily. “Don’t you see? Whatever friendship we might have had is ruined now, forever. I’ll never be able to trust you again, and to be honest right now I can’t even stand the sight of you. You’re lucky I’m not telling my father and having you executed, and the only reason for that is because of everything you’ve supposedly done for Camelot.”

Merlin can only stare at him. “But this is my home.”

He doesn’t expect Arthur to flinch, but even when he does nothing changes. When it comes Arthur’s reply sounds even angrier than before.

“Camelot is nothing to you, Merlin. And you are nothing to it. If you step one foot back in this kingdom not even I will be able to save you.”

He moves to the door. 

“Leave, now. Say goodbye to Gaius if you must but I will be watching to make sure you go.”

“Arthur.” He isn’t above begging. Not if it could stop this and allow him to stay with everyone he cares about. “All I ever tried to do was keep you safe-”

The prince doesn’t look back at him. 

“Then you did it all for nothing. You’re the last person I would trust to save me.” He hesitates. “Goodbye, Merlin. I never want to see you again.”

And then Arthur leaves. Just like that, leaving Merlin sitting up in his bed, alone, clutching a travelling pack to his chest.

  
  



	2. the day bleeds into nightfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lau and I are so friggin excited that y'all loved our first chapter! All your kind comments made us lowkey cry lmao

Merlin’s first thought upon seeing the roguish dark-haired fighter is that he’s very handsome, and would make for a very brave knight.

His second thought, however, is _ouch_ as he witnesses the man get punched in the face.

After ducking into the Rising Sun to see what had caused the huge uproar of yells he’d heard when passing by, it was clear within seconds that the long-haired, smooth-talking man was at the center of it. He finds himself standing by, mouth gaping open like a fish, as the man is hit one, two, three more times before his assailant drops him to the floor.

Merlin sees a flash of metal only moments before the attacker stabs the other man in the side. When the blonde drunk draws his arm back to stab him again he drops the dagger with a strangled yell, clutching his freshly burned hand to his chest. At the shocked and panicked noise that Merlin makes, the handsome man’s eyes snap to Merlin’s own and then dart back to the dagger now lying on the ground. A look of understanding passes over his face and Merlin only has a couple seconds to think _oh shit, he saw_ before the man is on his feet and running out of the tavern, dragging Merlin with him.

The two men run down an alley and Merlin spots a cart full of hay and heads towards it immediately.

“Over here!” Now he’s the one dragging them along, and once they reach the cart, he helps his injured companion into it before jumping in himself, covering them both with hay.

The cacophony of footsteps and voices gets louder until it is right outside the mens’ hiding place, but soon begins to fade again as the men who attacked Merlin's new companion give up on finding them. Merlin hears one of them mutter that the chase isn’t worth it before another voice agrees and suggests going back to the tavern.

As the last of the men filter away into the night, Merlin begins to hear the laboured breathing of his new acquaintance and remembers with a start that he’s been stabbed. He pauses to listen and make sure there really is no one around before easing himself out of the cart. His companion follows him out, clutching his side. Merlin helps him sit down, leaning against the side of the cart they were just in.

“Damn,” Merlin breathes out, “you’re bleeding pretty heavily.”

The man quirks an eyebrow and gives him a charming smile, “ah, it’s nothing but a scratch. Can you not just-?” 

He cuts himself off with a wave of his hand toward Merlin, and then towards his wound. Merlin takes this as confirmation that he saw him use magic and only has a brief moment of panic before realizing that the other man doesn’t seem to be afraid of him.

“I, uh, I can stop the bleeding, but my magic is not strong enough to heal you completely. But,” Merlin says at his companion’s glance, “there’s someone I can send you to. If you tell him that Merlin sent you, he should be able to help.” 

The man nods and looks at Merlin expectantly.

With a few whispered words and a flash of gold in his eyes, the bleeding in the man’s abdomen slows to a halt and he begins to regain colour in his face. Merlin thinks he should be scared that another person knows about his powers, but all he can feel is a sense of relief at not having to hide this part of himself from this man. _Besides_ , he thinks, _I’ll probably never see him again. He cannot be a danger to me if that’s true_.

Merlin helps his companion to stand and the two men begin to walk towards the rows of houses that sit by the market. Merlin shivers slightly as the night’s cold sets in. The moon is casting bright enough light to help guide their way but not so bright as to easily reveal their location to anyone who may be looking.

His companion sticks his hand out, “The name’s Gwaine.”

Merlin smiles slightly at the abrupt introduction, reaching out to grasp the man - Gwaine’s - hand, “Merlin.”

“Well, Merlin, I have to say: if you hadn’t been at the tavern when you were, I might have been a goner. So, thank you.”

Merlin waves his hand, “It was nothing.”

Something in Gwaine’s face shifts, and his grin settles into something softer, “Still, I thank you.” He pauses for a moment and then asks, “So, where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to a woman named Gwen. She’ll be able to get you into the castle to see a man named Gaius who will be able to heal your wound.”

“You can’t take me to see this Gaius yourself?”

“Uh,” Merlin hesitates, casting a look at the castle in the distance, “no. I can’t, sorry.”

“No?” Gwaine raises an eyebrow, and Merlin is suddenly hit with sadness from the action’s subtle reminder of Gaius.

It’s that which causes him to elaborate to this stranger. “No, I uh- I’ve been banished from Camelot. Just tonight, actually. If I show my face in the castle, I dread to think what could happen. It’s already risky enough for me to linger in the town.”

Gwaine’s other eyebrow had now joined the first in creeping up his forehead. The expression is almost comical, and Merlin has to stifle a laugh at the contrast of such an incredulous look on such a handsome face.

“What did you do to deserve such a punishment?”

“You mean, besides the sorcery?”

“Sorcery is punishable by death. You are still very clearly _alive_ so I’m finding it hard to believe that’s the reason for your banishment.”

“Yes, well, having the prince as a friend was very helpful in that regard.” Merlin is ignoring the fact that it’s Arthur who sent him away in the first place, of course.

If at all possible, Gwaine’s eyebrows continued their upward climb of his forehead. Merlin figures that soon they’ll completely disappear into his hair if they keep it up.

“Prince Arthur is your friend?”

“Arthur… was my prince. I was his manservant, though as time went on I- it would be nice to believe that we became friends. I was - and still am - completely loyal to him. Which is probably the only reason that my head is still attached to my body. I felt I owed it to him to come clean about my powers.”

Merlin still stands by that decision but it doesn’t make the outcome hurt any less. He remembers Gwaine beside him and forces a quick grin. “But Arthur’s the prince, sworn to uphold Camelot’s laws.” He swallowed. “And he couldn’t stand the thought of me lying to him all this time. I’m not sure what led to him sending me away instead of sending me to my death, but I’m grateful for it.”

Merlin’s chest aches at the thought of Arthur - beautiful, loyal Arthur - feeling as if he can no longer trust Merlin, like Merlin had betrayed him. He wonders what had made Arthur spare his life; one final act of friendship? Some last piece of loyalty?

He forces himself to keep his composure even as he realizes there’s a good chance he’ll never learn the answer to his question.

Gwaine’s eyebrows finally begin to lower and the look on his face is now one of understanding, not surprise. “You care for him.” He says this not as a question, but as a statement of fact, one that Merlin cannot deny.

“Of course I care about him. He’s my prince, and he is-” Merlin pauses, “- _was_ my friend.”

“That’s not what I meant, but... I think you know that.”

By now, the men have almost reached the door to Gwen’s house, and Merlin can see the candles flickering in the window. _Good_ , he thinks because that means that she’s home. He steps forward to knock on the door and moments later it swings open, revealing Gwen. 

Merlin has to immediately reach out and clap a hand over her mouth as she opens it, so as not to let her loudly exclaim her surprise at him being there. Her eyes widen, but she takes the hint and steps back into her home, gesturing for Merlin and Gwaine to follow her inside. After casting a curious look at the long haired man, she turns to Merlin fully.

“ _Merlin_ , what are you doing here? And why do you have a pack? Arthur-”

“Gwen, I don’t have a lot of time to explain everything, and I will try to answer some of your questions, but first I really need you to help me.”

He tries to put on his most innocent and pleading expression, and though Gwen looks at him knowingly, obviously not fooled at all by his antics, she nods and gestures for him to continue.

“I ran into Gwaine, here, at the Rising Sun. He was stabbed by one of the other _lovely_ patrons. I managed to stop the bleeding but there isn’t much else I can do for him. I want to send him to Gaius, but I can’t…” He trails off. 

For the first time in hours, the fact that he can no longer set foot in the castle, or eat another meal with Gaius, go on a hunt with Arthur, or do anything else that he had gotten used to doing sets in, and Merlin almost stumbles back with the force of his own grief. He forces himself to continue once he notices that both of them are looking at him curiously. “I can’t take him to the castle myself, so I was hoping that you would help.”

“Of course I’ll help.” Gwen turns to Gwaine. “Do you need anything to eat or drink? You look a bit pale.”

Gwaine shakes his head, “No, my lady. I’m only pale because of the blood loss.”

Gwen scoffs and gives Gwaine a rueful smile. “We should head to the castle then. Getting in during the night will be much easier, and no one should ask too many questions. And Gwaine,” she pauses, “I am not a lady.”

He smirks. “But you _are_ as beautiful as one.”

Rolling her eyes, she turns back to Merlin. He catches her raised eyebrow, her silent question of _is this guy serious?_ and he grins widely until she speaks. “Please wait for me here. I want a _thorough_ explanation for what is going on.”

Merlin nods his assent, his smile gone. “Of course, Gwen.” 

And with that, she and Gwaine are out the door.

* * *

Hours later, Merlin wakes to a gentle hand shaking his shoulder.

“I wasn’t sure if you would still be here.” Gwen says.

“I gave you my word, didn’t I?” At this, she smiles slightly.

“I know, but well- the circumstances under which you left have been very mysterious. I was worried you would run off. I saw Arthur storming back to his chambers after your day out. I wasn’t sure why he was so angry, but I also saw the look on his face. I- it was a look of pure sadness and I just- Merlin- what happened?” She looks so worried and upset, Merlin can’t help but give in.

And well? What’s another person that knows his secret now that the damned Prince of Camelot knew.

“I- Gwen.” He takes a deep breath, there’s no going back now, really. He lets sparks shoot from his fingertips and Gwen- Gwen _doesn’t look surprised_.

“So Arthur found out, then?”

Merlin splutters, “I- what?”

“Not all of us are as oblivious as our dear prince, Merlin.”

“But-? You- why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugs and places a hand on his arm, “I don’t know. I figured you would tell me once you felt comfortable enough, and when you never did, I figured you just didn’t want anyone to know.”

Merlin’s frankly flabbergasted. “I- thank you for keeping my secret. I’m sorry you found out through any other means than me telling you.”

Her features soften even more. “Of course I kept your secret, Merlin, you are one of my closest friends. I would never want any harm to come to you. Now, please, tell me what happened with Arthur.”

So Merlin starts from the beginning and tells her about their day in the forest, away from the duties and stresses of the royal court. He tells her about the conversations, and the one that inevitably led to him telling Arthur his secret. He tells her about Arthur’s reaction, and then his final decision to make Merlin leave the kingdom. By the end of his explanation, Gwen looks furious, and all Merlin is left with is a great feeling of loss.

She grabs him in a fierce hug and whispers, “I’m so sorry, Merlin, I can’t believe he did that to you.”

He shrugs rather helplessly. “He didn’t think he could trust me anymore; maybe he’s right.”

Her bark of sarcastic laughter makes him jump. “ _Please_ , you’ve saved that stupid man’s life more times than anyone even knows, and he can’t trust _you_? He’s an idiot, and a wrong one at that.”

Merlin sighs; there’s no way he’s winning this fight with Gwen. She’s entirely too strong-willed and determined when she thinks that she’s right. She continues on.

“Besides, what cause does he actually have to banish you from your _home_?”

“Gwen, sorcery is illegal in Camelot. Thank you for being so angry on my behalf but- there’s no use. What I am is illegal, and I’m honestly lucky that I didn’t lose my head for it.”

She huffs again but seems to resign herself to what Merlin is saying. Suddenly her shoulders slump and she sniffs. Realizing she’s beginning to cry, Merlin grabs her in a hug, shushing her sobs.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

“No, it’s _not_ okay! You’re leaving! That’s not _okay_.”

“Gods, I know, Gwen, I know. I’ll miss you very much.”

After a little while, Gwen’s cries have quieted and she sits up, yawning. “I should get some rest before tomorrow,” she says regretfully, looking at Merlin with tired eyes. Merlin wraps his arms around her for one final hug, and she heads off to bed.

Later, when Gwen has fallen fast asleep, Merlin quietly slips out the door and into the night.

* * *

It’s hard for Merlin not to compare his journey back to Ealdor to the one he made years ago from it on his way to Camelot.

The two experiences aren’t so different, really. Alone and confused, scared and feeling like an outcast… 

Merlin sighs as he trudges along the side of the packed dirt road. He needs to sleep.

But it’s hard for him to feel relaxed enough for that. 

So much has happened in the past two days that he was struggling to accept it. One moment he’d been telling Arthur about his magic and after that… after that everything was a blur.

The memory of Arthur’s face is clear in his mind’s eye and Merlin knows if he did try to sleep that’s all he would see when he closed his eyes. 

He doesn’t stop.

They’d done worse journeys than this, he reminds himself. Of course back then he had been given a horse, and Arthur had always been there to keep watch in shifts so they could sleep safely without fear of attack. 

Still, Merlin had travelled alone before. He could do this, it wasn’t like there was much in these woods or on the road that could bother him, especially when he could do his magic in the open. 

He isn’t scared because of bandits or mercenaries. Even the thought of running into one of Camelot’s patrols doesn’t make him nervous because now he is just another common traveller on the road going home. They probably wouldn’t even recognize him as Arthur’s manservant.

 _Former_ manservant.

Merlin swallows dryly and forces his feet to keep moving.

He’s scared because he doesn’t know what he’s going to do now. He’d had a plan for his life, shaky and general as it may have been, but now even that vague outline has been taken away from him. Merlin has no purpose.

Another day and he will be back with his mother in Ealdor. Everything would be better then. Probably. Hopefully. 

Maybe.

A small part of him keeps expecting a horse to come galloping up behind him with Arthur on its back. He imagines him appearing in a rush only to stop and for the prince to smile down at Merlin and make some sort of joke as if Merlin was being silly, before telling him everything was fine and all was forgiven. The mere thought of it is enough to make him glance back, taking in the thick trees on either side of the cleared path as he hears the chirping of the birds.

But there are no hoofbeats. Nothing to indicate there’s anyone behind him for miles and miles.

Merlin hoists his pack up over his shoulder and turns forward again, forcing his feet to take another step.

* * *

At least his mother is happy to see him. 

He trudges up to Ealdor with his head down, trying to hide his face, but it’s a pointless hope in as small a village as this. Bill the butcher catches sight of Merlin as he passes and within seconds is calling out his name.

“Merlin! Been a while since I’ve seen you around here.” The red-faced man calls, mopping his sweaty balding head with an old rag. 

He nods and tries to smile. “Hi Bill. I’m back for a bit, just arriving.”

That was obvious enough from the pack on his shoulder but Bill nods anyway. Merlin feels a nostalgic pang go through him. “Seen your mother yet?”

“Just headed there now.”

“Well tell her there’s fresh venison, would you? Harry got one last week and he’s selling the excess.”

“I will, thanks Bill.”

As Merlin keeps walking a heavy feeling settles in his stomach. 

It’s like he’d never left. Like everyone has just been waiting for him to return back from the capital and the prince to what everyone expects of him- a poor farm boy back where he belongs. 

He comes up to his home and knocks quickly on the door before opening it and going in, but all he finds are empty rooms. His mouth turned down in a frown and he slides his pack from his shoulder before going out the back.

And there she is, back turned to him as she kneels down in the dirt beside the garden pulling up weeds with her fingers.

Merlin is surprised at the sudden tears in his eyes as he croaks, “Mum?”

Hunith freezes as he hurries over to drop down beside her. Her hands reach out desperately as her eyes move over his face, taking him in, checking him for injuries or to see how well-fed he is or whatever it is mothers do that for.

“Merlin!” She doesn’t seem to notice that she is shaking slightly as she yanks him into a bone-crushing hug.“What on earth- what are you doing here?”

He takes a deep breath for the first time in ages and hugs her back just as tightly. “Hi Mum.”

“Merlin,” she says again with a happy laugh as she pulls away to hold his face in her hands. Quickly she looks around him and then back towards the house before meeting his eyes. “Are you alone?”

He tries to smile as he nods.

Worry flashes through her eyes but she hides it quickly. “Well what a lovely surprise. Has Arthur finally given you that promised vacation time?”

Merlin flinches and Hunith’s hands drop to her lap. “Merlin?”

He shakes his head to deter her. “He knows, Mum. I- I told him.”

Her hands shoot up to her mouth as her eyes widen. Merlin tries to smile reassuringly as he half-heartedly lifts his shoulders into a shrug in an attempt at casualness. 

“It went about as well as expected.”

“Oh sweetheart.” She pulls him back into another hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“He sent me away.” Merlin mumbles into her clothed shoulder, the familiar scratchiness of it comforting. “He told me he couldn’t trust me anymore and then- he exiled me, Mum. I can’t go back there.”

“Shh, shh.” She rubs his back soothingly as Merlin cries quietly into her shoulder. “He’s shocked Merlin, of course he is. But that boy cares for you a great deal and-”

“No.” He sniffles and pulls away to wipe his nose on his sleeve. “No, you didn’t see him. His face, it was… he’s never looked at me like that before, no matter how angry I’ve made him.”

“He’s hurt,” she tries to reason. “But the fact that he sent you here rather than- than telling his father, that says a lot, doesn’t it?”

“So I should be grateful that he didn’t kill me?” Merlin says bitterly and Hunith’s expression softens.

“Oh no, Merlin, of course not. I’m sorry Arthur reacted this way at all, it’s not fair.” 

But Merlin looks away. He isn’t sure why he is arguing with her when he _does_ understand why Arthur has made him leave. He has betrayed him, has spent years lying to him and living as the one thing Arthur fears above all else. 

Still, his mum’s words are nice to hear and he nods finally, allowing her to hug him again.

“Look on the bright side,” she says into his ear. “You’re back home now, back here with me. And no matter what I will never be sorry for that.”

Merlin nods again and tries to hide the fact that her words only make him feel worse.

“Now come on.” She stands up slowly, the pile of weeds forgotten for the moment, helping him follow her. “Let’s go inside, hm? I’m sure there’s a lot for us to catch up on. How’s Gaius?”

And so Merlin follows her into his childhood home, all the while feeling like he should be going a different direction entirely.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, come scream with us on Tumblr at yourstrulytaaay and percyjacksonfan3 and let us know what you thought of chapter two!!


	3. I was getting used to being someone you loved

Arthur waits for the others to say something first.

He’s standoffish and abrasive with everybody without meaning to be. Any other time he would have blamed it on his lack of sleep; which still probably plays a part in it. He’s been up half the night pacing his room and trying to accept the fact that the person he had somehow come to trust above everyone else has turned out to be the biggest liar in his life.

Who is he trying to convince? It isn’t tiredness making him lash out; it is everything that had happened with Merlin.

It had been impossible to rationalize. Merlin: a sorcerer. Merlin: a threat. Merlin, a liar, not only to everybody else they knew, but to  _ Arthur _ . 

Merlin who had managed to reach the heart of Camelot undetected and somehow become a necessity in the very kingdom, to Arthur’s life, before he’d opened his big mouth and forced Arthur to ruin it all and force him away

What else could he have done? 

Arthur wishes that the question wasn’t so desperate and so literal. He had tried. During the entire ride back to Camelot, the hour after he’d sent Merlin to bed before making him go, Arthur had tried to come up with some other solution.

He’d wanted to magically make everything go back to the way it was before Merlin had told him. When he’d realized that, Arthur had wasted only a moment on regret, ignoring the feeling in his chest, and packed a bag to make Merlin leave as quickly as possible. 

He’d tried but his frame of mind hadn’t changed as he wasted minutes trying to accept and think everything through. The situation was an impossible one. And so he had dealt with the issue the same way his teenage self would have; by making it go away so he could ignore it and move on.

The problem, he realizes the next morning, is that sending Merlin away wasn’t enough. 

No, because Merlin is everywhere in his head and everywhere in his life. Arthur hasn’t slept the entire night but that doesn’t stop him from being so lost in his own thoughts that he forgets about the knights’ morning drills and arrives late. Which only reminds him of Merlin all over again because it was Merlin’s duty to wake him up for that kind of thing.

He’s cruel during the drills, and the knights notice. Leon looks at him with worried eyes and Arthur turns away, wondering where Merlin has gone and how far from Camelot’s border he was by then. His stomach was empty and aching but the thought of eating made nausea twist in him threateningly. 

It’s too much effort to pretend he isn’t upset and so he doesn’t; honestly he doesn’t think he’d be capable, even if he’d tried. There’s no escaping the fact that every time one of the knights makes a quip Arthur looks over at where Merlin would normally be, tiredly sharpening their blades or repadding the straw practice dummies, to see whether his manservant had heard and laughed. He pushes the knights so hard that none of them have enough breath to talk, just so he can escape their happy banter and wallow in silence. 

It’s not enough to distract himself from his thoughts but that morning it’s all Arthur can think of to do.

Usually he would talk and laugh with them, but not today. They notice, because his knights aren’t dumb and the job does require some observational skill, but none dare to comment to his face.

In fact nobody challenges his mood and that only serves to make Arthur angrier. The one person he’d had who would call out his temper was the same one he’s sent away and vowed never to see again.

The day drags on, like only the worst days can. He finishes with the knights and dismisses them before immediately stalking back to the castle. His armour is hastily undone and thrown about his room and he pretends the childish action makes him feel better. 

He stops a random servant in the halls and asks for a bath to be brought to his room. Usually Merlin would already have one waiting but- well. Arthur is going to have to do without those little gestures for a while, at least until a new servant could be found for him.

Bathing takes little time when there’s nobody there to talk to and try to make jealous (“Hot water for a bath? That’s a luxury only the most prattish of princes get.” “Shut up, Merlin.”) and Arthur gets out before realizing there’s no sheet waiting for him to dry with. He ends up just putting his clothes on, feeling the cloth stick in places to his damp skin, and through it all he thinks of Merlin.

The fool is bloody everywhere and Arthur just wants it to stop because- 

-because it  _ hurts _ . He can acknowledge that, if only to himself. Merlin’s betrayal hurts, it’s a stabbing pain in his chest, a reminder coming with every heartbeat, and all he wants is one moment where he doesn’t have to remember the terrified and hurt look on his servant’s face or the tremble in his voice or-

-no. That’s enough. Arthur isn’t the one who’s done something wrong. He hasn’t broken the law and he hasn’t lied.

Of course, not turning Merlin in was treason in itself. But it was the only thing Arthur had been able to bear. The thought of telling his father the truth was unthinkable and still is. Arthur had entertained it only for a moment before feeling himself recoil in horror at the thought.

But seeing Merlin everyday, having him by his side knowing that everything until yesterday had been a lie is also more than Arthur would have been able to handle.

He’d needed space. Space and time. And though Arthur has matured and grown to become a better man since meeting Merlin, there is still a part of him that is Uther’s son through and through. His emotions had gotten the best of him and he’d lashed out and banished Merlin so that he wouldn’t have to face the weight of what has happened.

Or so he had hoped, until this morning when he left his rooms and came face to face with the castle’s occupants. No matter whose face he passes it’s Merlin’s he thinks of.

He manages to carry out his duties alone in the morning, only speaking tersely to random Camelot citizens during his city rounds or to those he passes in the castle. After lunch he takes his sword and does some of his own practice alone, and though he tries, he can’t make himself go through with any strike when he keeps imagining Merlin in the straw dummy’s place.

But a prince can only escape the company of others for so long and so by the afternoon the first signs of his friends’ suspicion creeps in.

Leon makes an offhand remark about not seeing Merlin around, but he doesn’t say it to Arthur and it’s not directly a question anyway, so the prince tries to just ignore it. Gwen shoots him looks in the castle halls that clearly show she wants to talk but Arthur strides past her and so she unhappily moves on. Morgana opens her mouth when a servant named George serves Arthur at dinner with the king that night but Uther speaks before she can and so Arthur has a few more minutes of tired relief.

It’s only been a day.

Surprisingly, it’s Uther who’s the first to comment on Merlin’s absence directly to him. 

“That servant of yours, Arthur.” Uther speaks around taking a sip from his goblet at the dinner table while Arthur and Morgana wait for him to finish. They’re both expecting a dismissal and are both surprised when Uther begins this new conversation instead. “Where has he gotten to? It’s rare he’s not at your side these days.”

Arthur looks up at his father slowly. He hasn’t said much all through the meal, leaving it to Uther and Morgana to carry on a conversation, and though he’s felt their questioning looks once or twice neither of them have said anything about it.

Truthfully he’s eaten little and stared at his plate most of the time, completely ignorant of what they were each saying while he was lost in his own thoughts. Hearing Uther address him directly makes him blink and force his attention back to the dinner and his companions just in time to gather what his father has asked him.

“He…” Arthur trails off, unsure of what to say. Though he’s spent all day trying to come up with an excuse for Merlin’s sudden absence he keeps finding holes in every one. For a moment he panics, wondering if Gaius has said anything to anyone, realizing he should have spoken to the physician. But that all has to be shoved aside as he faces down his father’s sharp gaze.

In the end he settles for the simplest explanation. He gives a version of the truth, and hopes this isn’t going to be one of those rare moments Uther actually shows an interest in others. “I sacked him. He’s left Camelot and won’t return.”

Morgana’s gasp is audible but Arthur doesn’t look away from Uther who watches him with sharp eyes for several moments before abruptly nodding and looking away to take a few grapes and eat them. 

“Good. I thought he was becoming a bit too comfortable for his station.” The king chews for a moment and doesn’t notice Arthur wince. “You’ll replace him within the week?”

Arthur looks back at his empty plate, ignoring Morgana kicking him under the table. His words are dull. “As soon as I find somebody suitable.”

“Use George in the meantime,” Uther waves a hand at the man standing behind Arthur, ready to collect his plate as soon as he so much as twitched.

“Yes, Father.” He agrees. 

And that is that.

* * *

Arthur excuses himself quickly after. He’s eaten all he will for the day and he’s beginning to feel claustrophobic under the outraged glares that Morgana keeps sending him. 

Uther for his part doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does he doesn’t care. Though the king’s attention lingers on Arthur’s half-eaten food and glances from Morgana’s burning eyes to Arthur’s downturned lips, he makes no remark on either and easily lets Arthur go.

Morgana is only steps behind him.

“Arthur.” She hisses as he strides away, ignoring his oldest friend. “Arthur!”

Still he keeps walking. If it weren’t for the remnants of his pride and dignity he would run, but she would never let him live it down.

She probably won’t let him live this down either but he doesn’t think about that. There are bigger issues on his mind.

He wonders where Merlin is now and then tries to pretend he doesn’t care.

In the end it is Morgana who runs. Just as he makes it to his chambers she grabs his elbow and turns him around.

“Arthur, you will speak to me.”

“Not now, Morgana.” He means to sound harsh so that she will back off and winces when instead he just sounds tired. She notices too and he sees her frown deepen.

But after a second her shoulders square. “Yes, now. Where’s Merlin really?”

He stares at her. “I don’t know.”

It hurts him that the words aren’t a lie.

The fingers of one of her hands twitches. An old sign of frustration from her. “I assumed you two had some sort of secret mission and that was just your idiotic cover story for Uther.”

It’s not a question and something rips in Arthur because usually Morgana would have been right. Well, not about him being too idiotic to come up with a better lie but- about the rest.

Any other time Merlin would have been off on some errand for Arthur all day. Or Gaius. But Arthur would have known about it and given his approval and known when to expect Merlin back, or maybe even ridden out to join him as soon as he was able to get away and-

-and nothing. There was no point indulging his fantasies. He’d done it far too much since meeting Merlin and if there was one thing Arthur was set on, it was stopping his feelings from getting the better of him again. 

He should know by now what opening himself up to others did. It gave them the opportunity they needed to hurt you. And Merlin has done it better than any who had come before. 

Arthur’s eyes fell closed and he was hit again with the knowledge of just how tired he was. He’s been up all night after all, and though his mind still races his body is slowly starting to betray him. He needs sleep.

Morgana doesn’t seem like she is leaving anytime soon.

“I’ve already told you the truth,” Arthur says. “But if you’re planning on yelling at me I’d rather it wasn’t in the halls where any passing servant could hear you.”

He opens his door, waiting for her reply, but his words made her eyes widen a fraction. 

“What did he do?” She asks, more of a breathless question of concern than anything. Arthur freezes, caught.

“I don’t-”

“Arthur, come on. You’ve never invited me to yell at you in your entire life.” Her lips twitch into a smirk briefly. “Usually it’s just a pleasure I take for myself.”

He doesn’t smile back.

“Either come in or go, Morgana, but I’m in no mood to linger here with you.”

Her eyes are piercing. “He’s really gone? He left, just like that?”

“Yes.”

She pauses for a beat. “Why?”

Arthur doesn’t have a good answer to that. Not one that won’t send her running to Uther or, worse, to Merlin. 

“Because I needed him to.”

He doesn’t wait any longer for her to reply and goes inside, barring the door behind him. Morgana hits it and calls out a few times but as Arthur undresses and falls into bed he finds himself too tired to do anything but wait for her to leave.

Nightmares plague him and when he wakes before dawn he does not allow himself to stay in bed. George appears with breakfast only to find Arthur already dressed and mostly ready for the day. The other man appears disappointed but Arthur barely notices. With orders to come back later when Arthur is out on patrol George is sent away, and Arthur does his best to go about his duties. 

Gwen knocks on his door that evening and Arthur’s hopes sink at the sight of her. 

The last thing he wants is to lie to Guinevere. She has quickly become someone he cares about and if there is ever going to be hope for the two of them to be together in the future then he knows he shouldn’t lie to her. Especially not about this.

But when he looks at her standing outside his door, her purple dress on and her hair half-tied back, Arthur remembers suddenly that she was Merlin’s friend first. That she had kissed Merlin once, which his manservant had confessed one night during one of their quests when they’d been talking about their past romances. 

Arthur had been jealous when Merlin had told him, though he’d tried his best to hide it.

He remembers Merlin implying that others knew about his magic, people he would protect, and Arthur wonders if one of the people is Gwen. 

It would make sense, and in that moment he feels old walls rise back up and an old possessive jealousy flare. The thought that Merlin would trust Gwen over him was- and that she would keep it from Arthur… Did that mean Morgana knew too? Some of the knights maybe? Other servants?

Gwen is waiting for him to speak with crossed arms and an unhappy look on her face but Arthur has almost forgotten she is there at all.

“Arthur.” She interjects into his thoughts, making him snap out of the spiral he’s quickly fallen into.

If he was feeling more present he might have noted the tone of her voice. He might have known to be nervous. 

“Guinevere,” his tongue feels slow. “What are you doing here?”

Two days ago he would have been overjoyed to have her show up outside his door this late in the evening. Nothing could happen, of course, he had too much honour and respect for Gwen to allow that, even had she wanted it, but to know that she thought of him and sought him out… it would have brightened his whole night.

Now though, with everything, he can barely look at her. 

He curses Merlin in his head for ruining this too. Arthur doesn’t care if it’s unfair or uncharitable. He’s spent the past 48 hours feeling betrayed and despondent, as if in a daze, but suddenly he realizes just how  _ angry  _ he is.

And he’s not the only one.

There is none of Gwen’s usual quiet shyness about her now. No hint of a smile at her lips, no nervous fidgeting of her hands. Instead her face is dark and disappointed and furious and Arthur finds himself caught off guard because he has never been faced with this side of Gwen before.

Annoyed Gwen, yes. Irritated Gwen, a Gwen who knew when and how to knock him off of his high-horse and give him a reality check. 

But this is not just irritation from Gwen on her own behalf. This is bigger than that and Arthur knows with sinking certainty that this anger is for Merlin before she even speaks.

“I want to know why you’ve sent Merlin away.”

Having his suspicions confirmed does not improve his own mood.

He narrows his eyes at her. “That’s none of your concern.”

She looks hurt and for a moment Arthur feels regretful, but he pushes it away. He doesn’t know for certain if Gwen is aware of what Merlin is, and until he is sure there is no way he is talking about any of this with her. If the easiest way to make her go is to revert to his old behaviour and upset her then- then that’s what he’ll do.

He cannot imagine allowing anybody to grow close to him, not anymore. If he does then his willpower will crumble, he’ll break, Merlin’s secret will pour out and Arthur will have forced somebody else into the role he currently bears. A position where it is a choice between keeping Merlin safe or going to Uther.

Arthur has chosen. He’s done what he needed to. But he’s not sure he trusts anyone else to do the same. Even Gwen, lovely and loyal Gwen, might slip up. Maybe not to Uther himself, but to Morgana, or any other castle servant. 

The more people who knew, the more Merlin would be in danger. And Arthur couldn’t do that to him, even now, no matter how angry he is.

Gwen has already lost one person she loves to magic. Her father had been innocent, Arthur knows that, but it was too late now for anything to be done. All he could do was keep her safe by not involving her in this mess with Merlin. 

She won’t be able to get it out of him. He knows it as surely as he knows his own name. There is only one person who seemed to be able to squirrel out Arthur’s secrets from him and Merlin already knew this one.

Now that Arthur did too he wished with everything he had that he didn’t. He’s lost track of how many times he’s wished for things to just be back the way they had before; back to normal.

“It is my concern!” Gwen’s voice is high in anger and Arthur focuses back on her. It takes more effort than it should. “He showed up at my house two nights ago, Arthur! And he wouldn’t have even done that if it wasn’t for- if he’d had another choice.” Her glare cuts but he makes an effort to stare stoically back at her. “He wasn’t even going to say goodbye.” 

Her voice cracks and Arthur’s resolve wavers with it. But when he reaches out to try and rest a hand on her arm she jerks away. 

“I had to say goodbye to my best friend.” Gwen says, looking at him expectantly, defiantly. “You’ve made it my concern.”

“You don’t understand.” Arthur swallows heavily. “Gwen, you don’t know what he did-”

She makes an indignant and insulted noise. “What I know, Arthur Pendragon, is that Merlin has done nothing but look after and protect you since arriving here in Camelot.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “He has run after you every day, doing every ridiculous task you’ve set him, things that would usually require 10 servants. If Morgana had treated me a fraction of the way you’ve treated Merlin I would have quit within the week because I know I deserve better.”

Arthur’s hand falls to his side in shock from where it has been holding the door open. “Excuse-”

“I’m not finished. He has worked himself to exhaustion for you, not to mention his work with Gaius, and there’s other things he’s done that you don’t have a clue about, all to keep you safe-”

She goes on but Arthur doesn’t hear the rest, shocked as he is. Even though he’s anticipated this, even though moments ago he’d thought about how it was a possibility, he couldn’t help but stare at her in surprise.

Her words were confirmation enough; Gwen knows. She knows about Merlin’s magic. 

Merlin had told her before telling him. 

Suddenly the last thing he wants is to stand here and receive a lecture from her. He’s had enough surprises for a while and his anger swells to include Gwen.

Though he doesn’t like or forgive it, he can rationalize Merlin keeping his magic secret to a degree. He and Arthur hadn’t exactly started out as friends and once they were Merlin knew what it would do to Arthur if he knew the truth. He’d said so, hadn’t he? He’d said he’d wanted to spare Arthur from being put in that position.

But Gwen… it wasn’t her secret to keep. She’d chosen, Merlin over Arthur. She is a liar too, which made her no better than him and certainly no better than Merlin.

Still there is a part of him that won’t allow any room for doubt. He’s sick of secrecy and lies and his mouth works before he can stop and think it through.

“You know?” He wishes his voice didn’t come out so small. He sounds hurt, and even though he is, he hadn’t meant for Gwen to see that. “He told you?”

Something unreadable crosses her face, an emotion that Arthur can’t place. “No. At first it was a guess, I was suspicious after- but then I saw him.”

She’d  _ guessed _ .

Somehow Gwen, who spent a fraction of the time with Merlin that Arthur did, had seen what he’d been too blind to. Had guessed something he had remained stupidly ignorant to.

He’d thought he’d known Merlin. He’d thought he’d known him better than anybody else in the world.

Apparently Arthur has been deluding himself about that too. 

And the thing was, Merlin had confessed before. Multiple times. Arthur remembers watching him burst into the audience chamber and announcing to the king and court that he had magic. 

He’d said it, straight to their faces, but even then Arthur always thought it was all a big joke, some desperate attempt to help Gwen and her father and whoever else was in their dungeon at the time. Arthur just hadn’t been able to entertain the idea that it could be true. 

“After I’d seen it once it was easy to watch him from there.”

But then Merlin had told him in the forest and shown him and-

-and Arthur’s world had come crashing down. Everything is wrong now, everything he thought he’d known was questionable and Arthur has never felt so unsure in his life.

He trusted no one anymore. Merlin has done that. No matter what Gwen said, even if it was true that Merlin had saved his life more times than anyone would know- and he had, Arthur knew it too, had spent all of that first night thinking about it- it still didn’t matter. 

Merlin had taken Arthur’s trust and torn it to shreds. If Arthur knows anything, it was that.

It hurts to know that Gwen had figured it out before him, and it hurt that Merlin had disobeyed Arthur and said goodbye to her, and it hurt that Merlin had lied to him for years. 

Everything just hurt. 

And Arthur is alone.

“He’s also lied from the moment I’ve met him, put all of us in danger and never valued us enough to tell the truth.” He’s lashing out and his next words make Gwen flinch. “At any point during your goodbye did it occur to you to ask him about the role he played in the accusations against your father? You might have guessed a lot of what he’s done behind our backs, but you can’t guess everything.”

Gwen gasps. “No. He wouldn’t have.”

Deep down Arthur agrees with her but it doesn’t matter. This is what he’s spent the last two days doing, picking at every strange occurrence since Merlin’s arrival in Camelot, trying to figure out what came down to him and what didn’t. 

Arthur doesn’t think Merlin was responsible for Tom’s death but at the end of the day that wasn’t enough. Because he doesn’t know, does he? He doesn’t know because Merlin hadn’t told him.

“See?” He sees the look on her face. “It matters what he’s done.” Arthur says after a long silence, realizing that Gwen is staring at him in horror. “It matters what he is.”

But after he speaks her expression changes and she still looks disappointed as she shakes her head. “I know him better than that, Arthur, and so do you. You know what he is, as well as I.”

Again he’s thrown. Her loyalty shocks him and Arthur wonders why she can’t seem to understand this- Merlin has lied to her too, after all. How can she still care for him? What makes her trust in him so unshakeable?

Why does this seem to hurt Arthur so much more?

His anger slowly abates in the face of Gwen’s calm resilience, only to be replaced with miserable guilt. It’s been his constant companion these past two days, what was a little more? 

“What then? What is he?”

His voice is barely a croak but he’s past caring by now.

“He’s your friend.”

It forces Arthur to look away from her and the words physically pain him when he speaks. “No. He’s not.”

It’s the truth. Their eyes hold and Arthur watches as pity crosses her face.

“Go home, Gwen.”

He steps back in his room and closes the door. 

* * *

Morgana doesn’t relent. Everytime he sees her now, no matter how long for, she doesn’t make any effort to hide her feelings towards Arthur over what’s happened to Merlin. He can only assume that Gwen told her some sort of story, which makes him worry how much of the truth Morgana knows, which makes him mad at himself. 

She shoots him glares when Uther is around to stop her tongue, but whenever Arthur’s father isn’t present nothing can stop her barbs and comments.

When he passes her in the castle halls on his way to train the knights, with Gwen following at her heels, he sees her curled lip and disappointed eyes.

It hurts more than it used to two years ago. 

“You’re a fool.” She says as they pass one another and Arthur stops in his tracks even when she keeps walking. He glances back at her in time to see her turn her head. “And you’ll regret this!”

She and Gwen turn the corner without looking back and Arthur uses the moment alone to take a deep breath and regain himself before continuing on.

Of course his day only gets worse because it seems that when Merlin left he took all of Arthur’s luck and chances of happiness with him. When he meets the knights he’s surprised to find a stranger standing beside Leon and the others.

“What’s this?”

The men all turn and Arthur takes in the man. He has no armor, his hair is long and dark, his face slightly scruffy and his clothes look well-worn and patched. They seem even older than anything Merlin had ever worn. 

His shirt is ripped so far that half of the man’s chest is bare, the tanned skin contrasting the white fabric. His breeches are dark, and so is his belt. In fact the only things in semi-decent shape are the man’s boots. 

Boots, Arthur thinks with a frown, that look very familiar.

“My lord, this is Gwaine, he’s here to-”

“Where did you get those.” Arthur interrupts Leon to point at Gwaine’s shoes, causing everyone’s eyes to shoot to the boots as well.

Everyone except Arthur and Gwaine, whose gazes meet and hold in silent challenge.

“Ah, Gaius gave them to me.” The man’s grin is cavalier but Arthur sees that it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I lost mine in a fight in town a few nights ago. Some new friends brought me to your court physician and he was kind enough to help me recover and outfit me with these.” He lifts one leg a bit as if to observe the shoe, despite the fact he and Arthur are still locked in a staring match. When they come, Gwaine’s next words are pointed though Arthur is sure he’s the only one who notices. “He said the original owner wouldn’t be back for them.”

He tries not to react to that but his hand tightens around the pommel of his sword as he notes Gwaine’s expectant look.

Merlin. Of course.

It only belatedly occurs to Arthur that this might be some kind of trick.

“But those are Merlin’s.” Leon suddenly speaking makes them all look at him in surprise. He’s frowning at Gwaine before facing Arthur questioningly. “Why would he have left them?”

Arthur remembers how he threw the sack of clothes and food at Merlin that night while telling him to leave. Remembers how he ordered Merlin to go as quickly as possible, without time for him to say goodbye or to pack further.

He wonders now whether that might have been crueler than he’d known. How much did a new shirt cost? New boots? Does Merlin have enough funds to replace what little wardrobe and belongings he’d had?

Gwaine looks happily surprised. “You know Merlin?”

Leon laughs. “Of course we do. He’s Arthur’s manservant.”

“Was.” Arthur corrects. “Not anymore.”

Though Leon’s face flickers with surprise Arthur doesn’t pause to explain. The other knights are still waiting. 

“Right, Gwaine.” He sneers at the man’s name without entirely meaning to. The knowledge that Merlin helped this man the same night Arthur banished him is making his mood foul, and whatever polite leniency Arthur could have mustered up for Gwaine is definitely gone. “You’re here why?”

Gwaine looks at him, uncowed and unimpressed. “I was thinking about becoming a knight.”

His easy demeanour doesn’t endear him to Arthur. “Is that so?”

“It is.”

“Hmm,” Arthur looks at the others, seeing their boyish nods and smiles, before facing Gwaine again. “You’re of noble lineage?”

Gwaine’s face twists in a complicated manner. “I am.”

“Of whose house?”

For just a moment the man looks unsure. “Must I reveal it? Is my word not enough?”

“Unless you have someone to vouch for you…” Arthur trails off significantly, interest slightly piqued. What harm could there be in Gwaine revealing his parentage? Even if he belonged to an enemy of Camelot, if his wish to become a knight was in earnest, Arthur would grant it. 

He does not believe in punishing a child for the actions of their father or ancestors. 

Gwaine’s shoulders pull back. “My father was a knight in Caerleon’s army. He died serving his crown.”

Arthur isn’t reassured. If that is all then why had Gwaine been so reluctant to share it? Still, the other knights were watching him expectantly and so he chooses to ignore it, for now, knowing Geoffrey will find out the truth if Gwaine makes it far enough to be knighted. 

“Very well. Though I should warn you, before I decide whether you’re fit to join, everyone has to do one thing.”

The man’s head cocks slightly. “What’s that?”

Arthur’s grin feels sharp. “Fight me.”

Gwaine takes that in calmly, eyes taking in Arthur from head to foot slowly, assessing him. Arthur tries not to let it rankle. “Alright then. How hard can it be?”

The knights around them snicker and Leon’s lips quirk. Even Arthur is put more at ease by Gwaine’s arrogance. He’s seen countless lords overestimate their own abilities because they’ve never fought anybody with more power than them. It had always satisfied him to knock them down a few pegs.

He used to be one of them, after all, though it hadn’t been another knight who had made him realize just how insufferable that sort of attitude was.

Arthur turns to Leon. “Get him a shield and sword.”

Within ten minutes they’re ready and facing off in a circle of watching knights. Arthur turns his sword with a twist of his wrist, drawing Gwaine’s attention.

Perhaps the man wasn’t lying. He knows how to hold a sword, and his shield is strapped on properly. Even his footwork seems correct. 

Though Lance’s had been too, Arthur reminds himself, and they all knew how that had turned out.

He pushes the thought away just as Leon speaks. 

“Begin.”

Usually, when testing someone who wanted to be a knight Arthur started easy. He always let them come at him first and stayed on the defensive. That not only allows him more time to prepare, but it gives him a chance to assess the other man’s skills and strategy before being thrown into the action himself. More often than not the first minute of the fight was all he needed to know whether the man would cut it or not. After that, once the man either tired or grew too cocky, Arthur would surprise him by suddenly going on the offence. The fights never lasted long after that.

Arthur hasn’t been beaten in years.

But this time his usual methods go out the window and with Leon’s voice ringing in his ears he rushes at Gwaine with his shield up and sword swinging.

It’s a credit to the man that he dodges Arthur’s first blow and strikes back quickly. Though Arthur blocks the cut headed for his shoulder he is impressed with Gwaine’s strength and his strategy.

Not that it makes him go any easier on the man.

All Arthur can think was that Merlin has brought this man here. He’d disobeyed Arthur and lingered in Camelot to help Gwaine, and then he’d gone one step further and sent him to the palace where Arthur would obviously run into him eventually- for what?

Because Merlin knew Gwaine wanted to be a knight? Or had he just wanted Gaius to look over the man after his fight?

Why did Arthur hate the thought of Merlin helping him so much?

He just can’t help but think this proves his worst suspicions, doesn’t it? Obviously, Merlin didn’t really care for Arthur, because while Arthur had stayed up the entire night worrying and trying to reconcile Merlin’s admission with the person he’d thought he had known, Merlin had happily gone on with his life. He’d been so okay, in fact, that he’d gone to the tavern, helped a man in a bar fight and sent him to the castle.

Was Merlin really so arrogant that he’d felt safe to tarry in the city and do all of this after Arthur had banished him only hours before? Was Arthur really so pathetic that Merlin thought he would allow him to do whatever he wished and go along with any whim of his even though he was gone and Arthur was the prince? He’d seemed so scared before Arthur left- a thought which still kept Arthur up at night- but maybe that had been nothing but an act so Arthur wouldn’t have him executed instead.

It doesn’t seem like Merlin. Not at all. But Arthur isn’t in a charitable mood and so he can’t stop thinking about it.

Until Gwaine lands a blow on his arm.

Gasps sounded around them and Arthur is abruptly reminded of just where he is and what he’s doing. The man in front of him is panting with sweat dripping from his hair, but a gleam is in his eyes that Arthur thinks would be familiar if he looked in a mirror.

Gwaine had landed a hit. 

That is enough to shock everyone present, but Arthur most of all. He feels as if he’s been doused with cold water and for the first time since Merlin’s betrayal all thoughts of his former manservant leave his mind.

Arthur has other things to think about.

His grin isn’t intentional and he sees Gwaine blink in confusion at the excitement on Arthur’s face. Leon whoops from the sidelines but Arthur ignores him to focus on his opponent, turning his wrist to twirl his sword again.

“Good,” he acknowledges, watching Gwaine’s eyes widen further. “But is it enough?”

“Let’s see, princess.” The other man replies and somebody actually laughs. Arthur’s eyes narrow and for the second time, he presses forward, relentlessly raining down hits on Gwaine’s shield.

The man is strong, but he is still a man. Arthur has grown up with the best knights of the land training him, and he’s grown up with Uther, a father who wasn’t satisfied until his nine-year-old son’s arm had gone limp from attacking straw practice dummies for hours. Arthur not only has strength; he also has strategy and stamina. As good as Gwaine is, he still isn’t that good.

First the man’s shield splinters under the ferocity of Arthur’s hits. Shocked cries ring out through them all but Arthur doesn’t stop and, to his credit, neither does Gwaine, who jumps out of the way of Arthur’s next blow.

Still, it only takes a few minutes after that before Gwaine’s sword is kicked away and the man falls to the ground. 

Just as Arthur begins to raise his sword to point at Gwaine’s throat, however, the other man speaks.

“Merlin asked me to protect you.”

That’s all it takes to make Arthur freeze, his eyes shooting to Gwaine’s face, and it’s all Gwaine needs to sweep Arthur’s legs out from under him, grab his dropped sword and point it at the prince’s chest as he straddles him.

Gwaine’s grin is brilliantly wide and he still speaks loud enough so that only Arthur will hear him through the cries of the men around them. “Though personally, I’m wondering what on earth you could need protecting from that you couldn’t handle yourself.”

Arthur stares up at him in total shock.

He’s been beaten. Gwaine has won against him.

And Merlin hasn’t sent him here to test Arthur or upset him; no, he’s sent Gwaine to protect him.

A warm feeling blooms in Arthur’s chest and he wonders what it means that he focuses more on Merlin’s role in all of this than his own defeat.

Still, he has to pull himself together. There is an audience, after all, even if they are watching with their breaths held.

“Your words went against the Knights Code.”

Gwaine cocks his head. “How so?”

“We fight with honour, here in Camelot.” Arthur tries to find words to explain himself without revealing too much. “That was a dirty trick.”

“Honour won’t be what saves your life in a real fight, princess.” Gwaine finally stands up, Arthur’s sword still in his hand, and then offers to help Arthur too. “Besides, you didn’t go easy on me. Thought I’d repay the favour.”

Despite himself, the prince smiles and accepts the hand. “Fair enough.”

“My lord?” Leon breaks in hesitantly, making both Arthur and Gwaine turn to him.

Arthur nods at the other man. “Get him some armour, a sword and a shield. I’ll inform my father that a new knight will be joining Camelot’s ranks.”

The others finally rushed in to congratulate Gwaine and clap him on the back. He hears more than one ask what Gwaine said to make Arthur slip up, and his heart freezes in his chest before he hears Gwaine wave them off.

“Surely you’ll let the new guy keep some secrets, eh? I need all the advantages I can get against  _ you _ lot.”

Arthur quietly takes back his sword while the others laugh and gives them a few more moments before calling out. “Alright! Line up, get into position, it’s time for drills.”

The laughter quickly turns into groans after that.

* * *

Arthur leads the men through drills easily. By this point, the movements are second nature and he can do it while allowing his mind to wander, not bothering to catch Baron’s sagging wrist or ask about Cardan’s slight limp. Gwaine watches with him since it’s his first day, though Arthur suspects a lot of these moves are familiar to the man already.

It’s been a while since he’s been pleasantly surprised by a man’s prowess. Lance had probably been the last, and Arthur still regretted the fact that he had lied about his background and broken the code.

He had been disappointed, but he’d also seen the slump of Gwen’s shoulders and the crushed look on Merlin’s face for days after Lance had left, which had only made it worse.

Hopefully, Gwaine will prove different.

Arthur only talks to him after he dismisses the others and they break for drinks from water skins and to shed their armour. He’s happy when he sees that Gwaine looks slightly impressed.

“Leon will take you to be outfitted for good now. Make sure the weapons you choose are satisfactory, you won’t be able to pick again.”

Gwaine nods. “I understand.”

“But before you go,” Leon is standing with Percival and Kay, passing a water flask between them, but he watches Arthur, waiting for the signal. Arthur doesn’t give it quite yet. “Where are you sleeping?” 

The question comes out quiet, and even though he thinks he already knows the answer it doesn’t stop him waiting expectantly.

Gwaine looks at him slowly. “Gaius had a spare room where he let me rest. Apart from that, I don’t have anywhere.”

A pang goes through Arthur but he tries to hide it. He knows the room well, of course.

“You’ll sleep with the other knights in the barracks,” he informs him. “Many of them come from outside of Camelot and are in the same position as you. There will be room.”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow. “Alright.”

There was no sire or my lord. No titles. Gwaine, it seems, does not feel that Arthur warrants his respect.

Right now Arthur isn’t sure he does either. That is the only reason he lets it slide. Finally, he waves Leon over but hurries to say one last thing before his friend is close enough to overhear.

“Gwaine,” he calls the man’s attention back to him even though Arthur is purposely watching Leon approach instead. “One more thing. I don’t know why you thought to invoke Merlin’s name, but you are never to do that again in my presence. Do you understand?”

The short pause is awkward. “Yes.”

Arthur hides his relief at the answer. “Good. Leon will show you around now.” He smiles at his friend and Leon smiles back as he stops beside them, eyes bright.

“You feeling alright after that tumble, sire?”

Arthur rolls his eyes while Gwaine laughs sharply. “Tumble is a nice word for it.”

“I’m feeling fine,” Arthur speaks over them. “And I can promise that next time Gwaine and I face off the outcome will be very different.” 

Leon laughs but Gwaine’s face is serious as he replies. “I suppose we’ll see.”

With one last long look at the newcomer and a final nod to them, both Arthur turns and begins his solitary trek back to the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, come find us on tumblr, yourstrulytaaay and percyjacksonfan3!


	4. counting days, counting days (since my love up and got lost on me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay we know that Kilgarrah is not actually spelt like that; instead it is spelt like "Kilgharrah" like... canonically... but we think it looks better this way and so we made the choice to spell it like "Kilgarrah"  
> also we very obviously don't care about canon so like...... it's fine!  
> hope y'all enjoy!!

The days that pass become weeks and before Arthur knows it several months have gone by without Merlin in Camelot. 

Some have moved on easily, as if nothing was amiss. Leon and Percival behave the same as ever, though there are a few times Arthur overhears them wondering about Merlin. Usually around the fire at night during hunts when they think he’s already asleep. Once he interrupts them speaking outside of the throne room and by the way they immediately fall silent at the sight of him, he knows exactly what their topic of conversation had been.

Nobody speaks about Merlin around him now. 

Arthur won’t pretend that he doesn’t know why. The whole castle heard about how he stormed out of a dinner with Morgana and his father after she’d aimed one too many pointed comments at him about Merlin’s absence. He’s sure the rumour mill is running to try and make sense of why Arthur and Gwen have gone from a shy infatuation to a slow and gradual coolness between them. She has tried more than most to speak to him about their long-gone friend, and each and every time he has shut her down, unwilling to discuss him.

Eventually, she stops trying.

Morgana’s barbs still come but they aren’t relentless anymore and even she seems to be moving on.

Arthur hates it.

He had hated their questions and looks, their pitying or angry eyes, but he finds he loathes this more. How the castle can move on as if nothing had happened, as if nobody was missing, baffles him. 

Sometimes he feels like the only one who remembers Merlin had ever been among them at all. Merlin had been one of them, hadn’t he? He had carved out a role and been their friend and more. Yet the places he had occupied were slowly being filled and the people who had known him carried on seemingly without a hitch.

Arthur can’t seem to do the same.

He tries. At first he went through the motions, thinking over time he would settle back into his life, but it still hasn’t happened. Merlin’s absence is obvious to him, a gap in his nights and days. He hasn’t gotten a new manservant, much to the annoyance of his father, and so has learned how to do everything himself. A random servant brings him his meals if he takes them in his rooms, and his routine is well-known so a bath is waiting after a hard day of drills and practice. 

But he dresses himself, he writes his own speeches, he sharpens his sword and (time permitting) polishes his own armor. If he doesn’t have the time he hands it off to the palace weaponry and always has it back within the day. The stableboys muck out his horse’s stall and random servants are always available to push bush on hunts and hold his extra weapons. Gaius even has a new apprentice, though if asked Arthur wouldn’t be able to pick the man out of a crowd even if someone paid him.

He supposes it proves what Uther has always said; servants were replaceable. And Merlin had said something like that too, hadn’t he? That anyone could be Arthur’s manservant.

They were half right, he supposes. Newcomers eventually came along to fill in the gaps. All of the chores that had belonged to Merlin still got done. Does it matter who does them?

His father would say no. A servant is a servant. If the work gets done what does it matter who is responsible at the end of the day?

It seems that servants really are replaceable, from what Arthur has witnessed. 

Merlin just isn’t replaceable to him.

He feels himself wavering now. So long has passed and he’s had so much time and space to think that Arthur is beginning to regret his actions from that day.

Any spells Merlin might have cast will be broken by now, won’t they? Uther and Morgana seem the same as ever, and any spells on Arthur must be over with too. Anything that could influence his decisions or feelings… that will have worn off, surely?

Which means that everything Arthur feels now is real.

And since those feelings haven’t changed (that ache from missing him, the longing to see his goofy grin, the worry over where Merlin is now, those are all still there) that means Merlin never cast that sort of spell on him, doesn’t it? Which would suggest that Merlin had been telling the truth about not being here for power or gain, unless he’d been playing some sort of long game, waiting for Arthur to be king.

Arthur hates this. The doubt he feels about everything that never goes away now. He feels like he has to analyze everything with a fine-toothed comb, once, then twice and finally a third time before hesitantly letting it go. He can’t trust his past and he doesn’t trust anyone who’d been in the castle while Merlin was here.

Most of all he doesn’t trust himself.

But he’s getting so tired of living that way. It’s exhausting and he just- he can’t do it anymore. 

Merlin has been gone for months though and Arthur can’t see why he would have cast spells to last this long. Or how he could have had the foresight to do so. Reason would suggest that there were never any to begin with. And there is a limit to everyone’s power. Surely Merlin isn’t able to hold spells for so long over such distance?

Arthur doesn’t know, but as time creeps on he’s starting to believe his worst fears have been unfounded. Maybe Merlin had been telling the truth.

Maybe Arthur had sent him away so cruelly for nothing.

He did lie, he reminds himself, but even that seems like a small matter now. He’d told the truth in the end, hadn’t he? With nothing forcing him, Merlin had been honest; and Arthur had paid back his honesty with ruining their friendship and banishing him.

The only silver lining he can find is that Merlin was now gone from Camelot, and thus safe from Uther and anybody else who could find out his secret and kill him for it. But even that seems like a small comfort when Arthur knows Merlin had lived here for years and managed to survive just fine.

Sure there had been close calls and incidents, but now that Arthur knew his secret he could be there to help keep Merlin safe far more effectively than he might have accidentally done before.

When it comes down to it Arthur is starting to admit something that made him, if possible, feel even more miserable than before.

He misses Merlin. He misses him and he wants him back here in Camelot. Whatever danger came from that, the two of them could handle together, just like they always did.

Arthur can help now. 

But everytime he thinks that, he thinks about his father, and everything he’s seen of magic over the years, and doubt trickles back in. If Merlin is good, does that mean most sorcerers are? Or is Merlin an exception?

He’d once thought that Uther was wrong and the true cause of most of the misery in their land, but it had been Merlin who told him otherwise and stopped him from killing his father. 

Lately Arthur has started to wonder why Merlin would have done that and whether it was him who had lied instead of Morgause. And by the time he comes up with an answer his heart aches more than ever. 

_ “I use it for you, Arthur, only for you.” “It’s my destiny to protect you.” “You’re my best friend.” _

It’s late as he sits in front of the fire in his bedroom, but his thoughts won’t quieten to let him sleep. Instead he finds himself feeling slightly sick at the thought of what he’s done.

He’s made mistakes in the past, things that have had far worse consequences than this. Camelot had starved and thirsted after he’d killed the unicorn, and he had attacked a Druid camp under his father’s orders while knowing it was the wrong thing to do but, selfish as it is, he is starting to regret this most of all. 

He’s miserable. And it’s not Merlin’s fault, it’s his own.

He makes the decision suddenly, knowing that he needs to get out of this room and he needs to talk to somebody. He shoves his chair back from the table violently, hearing it wobble precariously but not lingering long enough to see whether it falls on the floor or not as he slams the door behind him.

It has been impossible to avoid Gaius completely of course, but apart from council meetings where a large number of feet separate them, Arthur has done his best. Miraculously, since Merlin’s left there've been no magical threats, and though there’s always bandits and people pillaging smaller towns, always thefts and accidents in Camelot itself, Arthur has made it through all these months unscathed and with no need to visit the castle physician. 

He has not spoken to the older man since Merlin has gone. In truth, he suspects Gaius is avoiding him as well. 

The few times their eyes have met during those arduous council meetings Arthur has seen the unhappiness that lines Gaius’ every feature and he has seen the raised eyebrow, as close to a challenge as Gaius would ever make to him. 

Arthur has always looked away, guilt churning in his stomach.

Even now, as he makes his way up the stairs in the physician’s tower to the familiar rooms, he feels his resolve wavering. Surely it will be too late. Gaius is an old man, though you’d never think he was frail after spending a minute with him. Arthur is certain he will be asleep. Perhaps he won’t even be there. Maybe...

He knocks hesitantly.

The sound of a shattering pot reaches him through the door, and Arthur frowns in alarm before opening it to come inside.

“Gaius? Are you alright?”

He stops at the sight of what looks like a broken pot of dead beetles on the floor at Gaius’ feet.

By the time he looks up at his face, the physician is already staring at him in surprise. “Arthur!”

Slowly he closes the door behind him. “I- my apologies, Gaius, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He waits but there is no reply. When the silence stretches on uncomfortably he says the first thing he can while feeling slightly desperate. “Can I help you with that?”

Something flickers across Gaius’ expression but his nod is sure. “One moment.”

He shuffles off, leaving Arthur standing in the middle of a room that was once extremely familiar to him. The shelves are still full, near overflowing, and the old cot Gaius had used for patients and sleeping in when Merlin was still there lay clean and crisp, the sheets undisturbed and unslept.

Of course Gaius will be using his original room again, Arthur thought, eyes landing on the closed door to Merlin’s room. That only made sense, seeing as nobody else would be. Gwaine is happily living in the barracks with Leon, Percival and the others, and Gaius’ new assistant has his own bed amongst the other castle staff. 

And Merlin is gone, never to return.

Gaius comes back with a handheld brush with long bristles. “If you would, sire? Only my back isn’t what it once was.”

“Of course,” Arthur replies automatically, stepping forward to take the brush and then bend to kneel on the floor. The stone is hard on his knees but he makes sure to show no sign of it as he hunches over, sweeping the beetles into one pile and the pottery shards into another. 

“Erm, here.” He carefully hands the broken bits to Gaius. “Do you have another pot you want these in, or-”

“You’ve missed one,” Gaius points under the table, making Arthur crawl over to check. 

“I don’t see-”

“Yes, further in there.”

Arthur shoots a questioning look back at the man but moves a chair away to give himself space to crawl under the table. Still though, he sees nothing, and his knees are starting to ache. They weren’t used to these hard surfaces. “Are you sure? I don’t think there’s anything here.”

“Ah, my mistake then. These old eyes, they play tricks on me at times.”

“Right.” Arthur moves backwards out from under the table until he is once more kneeling beside the pile of unmoving insects. “So where did you want these?”

“In here, if you could.” Gaius holds a glass jar out and Arthur tries not to let his disgust show as he scoops up the beetles and lets them slide from his hands into the jar.

“Thank you, sire.” Gaius says, taking the brush from him before he moves to put both it and the jar away. “Now, what can I do for you at such an hour?”

Arthur stands, wincing at the noisy crack his knees make, and feels his nerves return. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah,” Gauis speaks knowingly before he can go on. “Well, I have several things that could help with that. I did notice you’ve looked tired these past few months, and though I doubt you’ll need anything as strong as Morgana’s potion, there are-”

“No, Gaius.” He clears his throat. “It’s not nightmares.” 

Actually Arthur does have nightmares quite often now, but unfortunately he never wakes up from them. They just kept going, changing from one thing to another, until eventually it was morning and he woke up with his heart hammering, flames in his mind's eye and a scream ringing in his ears. 

No, he sleeps through the nightmares. It’s the questions that are keeping him up. Every night, circling around in his brain, thoughts and doubts and what-ifs that plague him until exhaustion takes him.

He needs to talk to somebody about this. And out of everybody- Leon, Morgana, Gwen- it is Gaius that Arthur chose. 

“I just... I thought…” 

He trails off as finally, finally, Gaius stops bustling around the room to turn and face him slowly, his expression carefully blank.

Arthur gives up at the look in Gaius’ eye. “You know why I’m here.”

He sounds more helpless than he likes.

Gaius sighs loudly, completely unsurprised. “Of course.”

“And you- you know.” Arthur hesitates. “Don’t you?”

If somehow Merlin had managed to keep his magic from Gaius it would surprise Arthur; but then again he had managed to keep it from him, and they’d spent more time together than anyone. Besides, Gaius is loyal to Uther and has been for years. It is possible he doesn’t know, even if Arthur doesn’t think it likely, particularly now that he knows Gaius had practiced magic before the ban.

The physician’s lips turn down unhappily. “I know that Merlin is a sorcerer, yes.”

Arthur’s muscles unclench a bit, even though hearing it said out in the open like that is a bit jarring. He hasn’t said it out loud for fear that someone will hear him, and Gwen had never named Merlin’s magic directly. Which had been wise, given that they’d spoken in the hallway outside Arthur’s room.

This was irrefutable, and Arthur is still spooked enough that he glances behind himself to make sure he’s really closed the door, before looking back at the old man.

“I just- I don’t want to go to the others. Even if they knew, they wouldn’t- it’s not the same.” He let out a shaky breath. “But I have so many questions, Gaius, and I can’t…” he clears his throat and shakes his head to try and get some of his control back. He blames his mood on the lateness of the evening. “Can you answer them?”

“The one who could have answered them was sent away long ago,” Gaius shoots back and Arthur looks down.

He should have expected this. Gaius was only subservient until pushed so far, and Arthur is hardly Uther. He and Gaius have no history, he has done nothing to earn the older man’s loyalty. In fact he’s likely done enough to earn the opposite.

The physician sighs again and Arthur glances up to see him move over to sit at the kitchen table. “But yes. I suppose I can do my best.”

Slowly Arthur goes to sit opposite him. Seconds tick past in heavy, awkward silence and Gaius’ eyebrow reaches new heights before he breaks and asks, “well? Go on.”

The problem is Arthur has so many questions that it’s hard to know which he wants answered first. As prince he should be asking whether Merlin ever cast a spell on any member of the royal household, or influenced proceedings here in Camelot. 

Instead he asks, “why didn’t he tell me?”

Gaius’ expression doesn’t change. “I was under the impression that he did.”

Arthur winces. He can’t deny that, of course, but- “Why didn’t he tell me sooner?”

The other man is quiet for a long time, just watching Arthur with heavy eyes. Finally he says, hunching forward, “tell me, Arthur, when would have been a better time for you?”

Arthur frowns.

Gaius leans poised over the table slightly, holding Arthur’s gaze. “If you had been Merlin, at what point in your relationship would you have felt it was the right time? Not when you first met, surely, given that you were both unsure of one another. And not after the first time he saved your life, as that was that same first week. Perhaps the second time? No, because you doubted him when he told you Valiant was using magic to bring the snakes on his shield to life and couldn’t prove it without revealing himself.”

Arthur swallows.

“So at what point did you start to trust him? Was Merlin just supposed to know? And even when you did, how far did that go? Where was the line between trusting him enough to be your manservant and friend, and trusting him to be those things knowing he had magic?” 

Gaius’ eyes bore into Arthur, full of an emotion he’s too distraught to try and identify, and he finds himself feeling very small underneath their gaze. 

“The only reason we know how far your trust went is because he  _ did  _ choose to tell you- against my advice, I will say. I warned that boy every day what the consequences would be if he told anybody about his magic, most of all you- and though I’m grateful you didn’t see fit to burn him alive, I cannot say I think the outcome we are left with is worth it. The two of us have not only lost an assistant and manservant respectively, I have also lost the closest thing I have to a son.”

It’s anger, Arthur realizes belatedly. In Gaius’ eyes, in his every word and movement, there is anger. 

He can’t remember ever seeing Gaius angry before.

Perhaps unfairly, he gets angry back. “What else was I supposed to do?” 

Gaius blinks. 

“He came to Camelot knowing my father’s stance on magic, and he stayed on despite that. I am the prince, Gaius, sworn to protect and uphold our laws. Would you have me making exceptions based on my own feelings? What kind of precedent would that set?”

He slams a palm down on the table. “You talk of my trust, but what about Merlin’s? Why couldn’t he trust me enough to tell me before? How could he lie?”

His throat is starting to feel tight and as he blinks he finds tears coming to his eyes. 

“Against everything my father has taught me I let him be my friend. We- I never lied to him, not once. But now I know that every day he was lying to me and- and-”

And Arthur can’t speak anymore because suddenly, for the first time since Merlin left, he begins to cry.

He’s too lost in his own thoughts to even be embarrassed, though later on he will be.

Arthur’s not sure which of them is more surprised when Gaius gets up to come place an arm on his shoulder and pull Arthur to him. His face ends up somewhere on Gaius’ side and the physician pats his back consolingly as Arthur shakes. 

It doesn’t last long. He’s not one to let his emotions get the best of him and though he’s obviously a bit less composed now than usual, he still regains himself quickly. 

Still, it lasts long enough that when he pulls away he sees tear stains on Gaius’ dusty orange robe.

“Sorry.” He wipes his eyes and under his nose, squeezing his eyes shut to give himself a few more moments. His embarrassment is overshadowed by everything else he’s feeling.

“It’s alright, Arthur.” Gaius pushes at his shoulder lightly and Arthur slides along the bench for the man to sit beside him. “Truthfully, I’m pleasantly surprised at you. The young man you used to be would never have cared so much about a servant. And though I wish Merlin could have stayed, the fact that you did not turn Merlin in and have kept his secret  _ is  _ something for which I’m grateful.”

Arthur stares down at his own lap.

“Now. You were saying?”

He’s not sure what he was saying, truth be told. His thoughts are a mess and so are his emotions. 

All of him, really.

“It hurts that he lied to me.” He says finally, quietly. “I know what you said about the risks, and trust, and- and I suppose I understand. If I had been in his place I don’t know if I’d ever have had the courage to say anything.” Merlin’s fearful eyes in the forest make a lot more sense now. “But even if he did the right thing- it still hurts. And maybe it’s worse because at the end of the day I did what you were both afraid I would do.”

“Hardly.” Gaius’ tone is far kinder than before. “Though he’s gone, at least he is still alive.”

“But I forced him to leave when he didn’t want to. To leave his home.”

“Yes,” Gaius admits before tacking on. “But you can always change your mind about that.”

Arthur shakes his head. “Not while my father reigns as king. The risk is too high, Gaius.”

Absurdly, Gaius’ lips twitch at that. “You’re both ridiculous, you know.”

Arthur blinks dry eyes. “Why?”

“You, not bringing him back to protect him from Uther. Him not telling you the truth so you wouldn’t be put in a position of choosing between him or your father. I’ve never seen a pair like you.”

Arthur frowns. “I don’t think it’s unreasonable-”

Gaius shakes his head. “Of course you don’t.” He chuckles to himself a bit. “Right, come now. What else do you have to ask me?”

He almost asks about Merlin enchanting him or his father but at the last second he thinks better of it. 

At the end of the day, he doesn’t need to know. If Merlin hadn’t then it would prove he was the man Arthur knew. And if he had then Arthur had no doubt it was what Merlin had thought was best at the time for their own good.

Gwen and Gaius had talked to him about trust. Maybe it was time he started listening. 

With the question of Merlin’s feelings regarding Arthur and their friendship sort of answered, and the questions of their own vulnerability aside, that left Arthur with remarkably little. He is curious about each and every adventure Merlin has gone through behind his back, and the ones that had happened right under Arthur’s own nose, but Gaius is right. He isn’t the one Arthur should- or wanted to- ask about them.

In the end there’s just one thing.

“Merlin said something about our destiny, and of a prophecy.” 

“Ah,” Gaius’ face lit up in understanding. “Though I know what you’re speaking of, I think there’s someone else who could answer those questions far better than me.”

Arthur frowns in confusion. “Who?”

Gaius just smiles in amusement.

* * *

Within the hour he finds himself standing alone in front of the dragon.

_ A dragon _ , Arthur thinks faintly, that has been beneath the castle for almost his entire life. One that Uther has ordered subdued and kept away because they are nearly impossible to kill, at least according to Gaius.

A dragon that looks entirely too pleased to see  _ him _ .

“There we are.” Gaius is extremely satisfied with himself, Arthur can tell. “Kilgarrah will answer your questions far better than I could.” 

And he turns to leave.

“Wait!” Arthur does not yelp, even if Gaius does look at him in alarm. Surprise made his voice go high, that’s all. And he thinks he’s entitled to feel surprised given what has been living underneath the castle for years without him ever knowing. When he speaks again he makes sure it is a quiet hiss.“You’re just leaving me here?”

The dragon rumbles deep in it’s chest. “You are in no danger around me, young prince.”

Arthur glances at it warily before turning back to Gaius beseechingly only to see his lips are twitching.

“You will be fine.” The old man assures him. “And it is late. I’m not as young as I once was and need to sleep.”

Arthur considers ordering him to stay, but the dragon already looks far too amused and he finds himself not wanting to give it the satisfaction.

“Fine.” He still mutters petulantly before catching hold of Gaius’ sleeve at the last second. “And Gaius.”

“Yes, sire?”

Arthur’s fingers tighten indecisively before he lets go. “I’m sorry. For making Merlin leave you.”

He hasn’t allowed himself to think about anyone else’s relationship with Merlin being ruined or strained because of Arthur’s decision. He hasn’t thought about anyone else at all. 

For just a moment Gaius looks sympathetic, but it’s gone in a blink of an eye, back to cool detachment. 

“There is still time.” Is all he says before looking back one last time at the dragon and leaving the two of them alone in the cool air of the castle’s underground.

“Okay.” Arthur turns resolutely back to the dragon who looks incredibly entertained and is watching him with his head cocked. “So you… live down here?”

The dragon blinks slowly and Arthur feels increasingly dumb as silence stretches on. 

“Right.” He clears his throat. “My father just… keeps you here?”

“I am no pet to be kept.” The dragon finally bites out, voice menacing. Arthur takes a step back involuntarily, the flame of his torch sputtering as he moves. “Your father had me imprisoned here.”

“Why?”

Those golden eyes flash angrily. “He lured me here under a false pretence of making peace. I am the last of my kind, and Uther uses me as a reminder to others of his strength over magic.”

Arthur frowns. “That makes no sense.”

“Do you think I lie?”

“No but- how can you be an example when nobody knows you’re here?”

“Those of the Old Religion remember me, and know of my fate, though there are few of us left. And many prisoners are brought through here with Uther and his guards, paraded in front of me as your father uses me to display his power before their executions.”

Arthur looks at him doubtfully. “That’s… he wouldn’t.”

“I can assure you he does.”

“How could we not know?” Arthur shakes his head. “Surely word would get out- gossip would spread.”

“Only a very few trusted servants know of my existence.” Kilgarrah shifts to settle more comfortably on his rock. “Those who were heavily involved in the Purge.”

“But-”

“Who do you think feeds me?” Kilgarrah finally says in exasperation. “It is not your father.”

Arthur can only stare.

“Merlin complained that you could be frustratingly slow at times but I always thought he was exaggerating.” The dragon shakes his head as he talks before he bares his teeth in what might have been a mocking smile as Arthur splutters.

“Me? If anyone’s an idiot, it’s  _ Merlin _ , he can’t walk without falling over half the time-”

Kilgarrah laughs, the former topic forgotten. “Ah, this is amusing. Already I see the similarities between you both.”

Arthur snaps his mouth shut before opening it seconds later. “What?”

“You and Merlin.” Kilgarrah stares him down, gold scales glinting as he shifts slightly. “I had no idea that when the prophecy called you two sides of the same coin it would be so literal.”

“Wha- two sides of the same coin? What does that even mean?” He shakes his head. “But that’s why I’m here, I wanted to ask you- Gaius said you could tell me about a prophecy. The one that’s about me and Merlin.”

“There are many prophecies about you and Merlin.”

Arthur swallows. “Can you tell me?”

For a moment the dragon actually looks sympathetic. “It is dangerous to try and meddle with our own futures, young Pendragon. More often than not it leads to terrible things.”

“But you told Merlin.”

“I have only told Merlin what he absolutely had to know so that he would stay by your side and keep you safe. To do otherwise would have resulted in both of you failing to fulfill your destinies.”

“So that means we can change them,” Arthur says warily. “Nothing is decided.”

“Of course not. The future is not set in stone. There are always possibilities, different paths that each of you may take, but your own actions will decide which you choose.”

He narrows his eyes. “Which means you’ve only been helping Merlin to fulfill the future you want, not necessarily one that might be best for the two of us or Camelot.”

Kilgarrah pauses and Arthur knows he’s surprised the dragon. He feels a surge of pride at knowing he’s caught him.

“Did you tell Merlin this too?”

“I have told you, Merlin knows only what he needs to.” Kilgarrah stares Arthur down. “Truthfully I suspect I have given away more to you than I should have.”

Arthur ignores that. “So you’ve used him without him knowing.”

“Merlin is not helpless, young prince.”

“But he is trusting.” Too trusting, sometimes. Looking up at the dragon suddenly Arthur understands why Uther would have rethought his initial decision and kept Kilgarrah a secret down here all this time. The dragon was cunning enough to manipulate anybody he talked to. 

He could just imagine it, a young Merlin, scared at newly arriving in Camelot, desperate for some sort of direction beyond what Gaius could give. Somehow Kilgarrah gained Merlin’s confidence and from there he would be able to use him as his tool to shape the future.

“Tell me what you told Merlin.” He demands, pushing those thoughts aside for later. “Surely whatever he was allowed to know, I can too.”

“Very well.” Kilgharrah blinks. “You and Merlin are two sides of the same coin, destined to bring a new era of peace to a united Albion. He will be by your side to ensure you become the Once and Future King, as promised.”

Arthur takes that all in slowly and finds that he is disappointed. “And that’s all you told him?”

Nothing about Merlin’s magic, or of when all this would happen. Nothing about what Arthur will do to unite Albion and usher in this supposed reign of peace.

Kilgharrah dips his head. 

Still Arthur isn’t entirely sure if he trusts the dragon’s word. He can’t see why Merlin would go through so much trouble to become his manservant and risk everything just for a vague future of peace.

“You keep saying two sides of the same coin. Why? What does that mean?”

“Neither you nor Merlin will succeed without the other.” Kilgarrah’s eyes narrow. “Which is why you must call him back to Camelot.”

“I can’t.” Arthur replies automatically.

“You must. Sooner or later you will encounter another threat you cannot face alone. Without Merlin by your side and without his protection you will be defeated.”

“My father-”

“Is not immortal.” Kilgarrah’s words are sharp. “Merlin’s wards over Camelot will not last forever. Eventually, without him here to strengthen them, they will fall.”

“He put up wards?”

“Of course. Over all of Camelot. And he has asked many here to ensure your own safety.”

Arthur nods distractedly. “Gwaine.”

“And Gaius and myself. Your mutual friend Gwen. The knights Percival and Leon. He has been working to keep you safe since his first week here.”

“Yes I know.” He mutters to himself. Obviously Kilgarrah means Merlin had talked to some of their friends before his banishment, because Arthur knows there is no way he would have had time to speak with all of them before he’d left that night.

He looks up. “Did he come to you? After I told him to leave?”

“Yes.”

Arthur bites his cheek briefly. “What did he say?”

“What I have just told you. He asked me to watch over you and do my best to keep you safe.”

“And… that’s it?”

“You want to know whether he was mad at you? What insults he might have said?”

Arthur stares up at the dragon. “Did he?”

Kilgarrah looks back at him. “No, Arthur. I don’t think he blames you for what happened at all.”

Arthur wishes the words comforted him. He moves on.

“You really can’t say anything else about the prophecies?”

“That is all I can tell you. If I have neglected to mention things that I told Merlin it is for reasons of my own.”

Now Arthur narrows his eyes. “Why would you do that?”

Kilgarah cocks his head. “Do not think to question me. Merlin holds my respect because he is of magic, like I am, and thus the two of us are linked. You, young Pendragon, are your father’s son and that does nothing to endear you to me.”

Arthur understands. The dragon is saying his sympathies only extend so far- about as far as his ambitions.

Rage fills him.

“Then what good are you?” Arthur yelled. “What’s the point of all of this? You don’t trust us to do the right thing so you use us, just like my father uses those around him. Maybe Merlin is innocent, but how can you say the same? If anybody would have a vendetta against my father it’s you, the exact same way that he’s poisoned against magic! You two are no better than each other if what you and Merlin say is true!”

The dragon’s eyes narrow into slits and he moves to settle into a crouch. Like an animal about to pounce on prey. 

“Take care what you say,” Kilgarrah warns. “You are young and broken hearted but I will not be likened to your father. And I do not tolerate disrespect.”

“Right,” Arthur shakes his head bitterly and turns to leave. “Who does that remind me of?”

And then the rest of the dragon’s words sink in as the beast’s lip curls and he let out a growl at the insult.

“Wait.” Arthur looks back at him. “What do you mean broken-hearted?”

Kilgarrah scoffs. “Please. I am above your mortal relationships and have no interest in discussing them. You have lingered long enough here.”

“No. What did you mean?”

Kilgarrah’s blows smoke from his nostrils. “Your feelings for Merlin run deeper than even you know, perhaps, but they are obvious to me. Even dragons recognize love, Arthur Pendragon.”

“What?” He says incredulously before forcing out a laugh. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t-”

“No.” Kilgarrah cuts him off. “You have wasted enough of my time and I grow tired of you. If you are too stubborn or cowardly to admit it then I will not waste my breath trying to convince you. It makes no difference to me as, to tell you the truth, I could care less for your own personal happiness. You are a coward in the face of magic and in the face of love and I only have the inclination to change one of those things. Now leave me.”

Arthur doesn’t move. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” His golden eyes glint cruelly. “Perhaps it is you that doesn’t recognize your own feelings.”

“Just because you know some prophecy about me doesn’t mean you know who I am.”

“Maybe. But then why would you send Merlin safely away, hmm? Your father is not one to be disobeyed, especially by his son and heir. Am I supposed to believe the feelings of a prince to his manservant extend so far?”

“That’s-”

“Why have you kept his secret from even your own friends, if he is gone never to return? Why do you seek out Gaius and myself for answers about a subject you should have no interest in?”

“You-”

“I have told you tonight that you are destined to be the greatest king Albion has known and yet it is Merlin you most want to discuss. I am not blind, Prince of Camelot, and nor are you.”

Arthur swallows but it seems the dragon is finally done. He opens his mouth ready to deny it all.

But something stops him.

“It has been months since he left,” Kilgarrah continues. “And yet nothing has changed. You are still plagued by his absence and still asking questions. You have not moved on.”

Arthur swallows the fruitless denial down, staring back at the Great Dragon while trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. Still, he can’t deny Kilgarrah’s words.

“It could be some sort of spell, or potion.”

“A love enchantment?” Kilgarrah laughs. “Come now, Arthur, you know our sorcerer better than that.”

It’s true, Arthur does, and he regrets even saying it.

“Besides, it’s been too long and Merlin is too far away. Even if he had enchanted you it would be long past now.”

A lot of questions spring to Arthur’s lips as that knowledge settles deeply in his gut. None of them are helpful.

Instead he asks something else. “Do you know where he is? If he’s alright?”

Victory is not something Arthur relishes seeing on Kilgarrah’s face, but he will suffer it if that means getting answers to his questions. Nobody else knows, unless they have lied to him. 

And Arthur is desperate for something. Anything. Surely if Kilgharrah can watch over him from this prison he could watch over Merlin too.

“He is far from here, traveling to other kingdoms to hone his skills.”

Arthur grits his teeth in frustration even though he is happy to have at least a semblance of an idea of what Merlin is up to. “But is he  _ alright _ ?”

“There are other things he would rather be doing, I’m sure.” Kilgarrah says drily. “But yes. He is safe.”

He nods. “Good.” 

And with his thoughts racing frantically he goes to leave.

“Pendragon,” Kilgarrah calls as he moves. “Your father has locked me in here, but one day, because of my help, you will be king. When you have the power to set me free I expect you to do so.”

Arthur stops for a moment but he doesn’t turn back.

Instead he keeps walking, putting the torch back in the wall sconce before climbing up the stairs.

* * *

Even though it’s close to or past midnight he comes across Gwen in a hallway.

More accurately he runs into her without realizing who it is until she’s retreated an arms length back and looks at him in surprise.

He blinks, Kilgarrah’s voice still ringing in his head. “Gwen?”

“Arthur.” She cocks her head and looks behind him, a questioning expression on her face when she sees he’s alone. “What are you doing here so late?”

“I- nothing.” He shakes his head. “Sorry for interrupting you.”

He moves to keep walking but she stops him with a light hand on his arm.

“Arthur,” her voice is concerned now. “Are you alright?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Well, your eyes are red.” She bites her lip nervously. “And you’re obviously preoccupied with something.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine Gwen.”

“Arthur.”

For the first time since they’ve been speaking he meets her eyes, and seeing the worry and concern in them causes something in him to fracture. 

She is still his friend, despite everything. Arthur shouldn’t forget that.

“Please. What is it?”

He sighs in submission and looks away from her. “What else? The same as always.”

Understanding crosses her face. “Merlin.”

He nods.

Her lips purse before she seems to come to a decision. “Right, come on then.” And she grabs his hand to drag him out of the hallway.

“Wha- Guinevere!”

“Just shut up and follow me, won’t you?” She says back to him and he does exactly as she asks. 

They pass a couple of servants who shoot them wide-eyed looks and Arthur internally groans. The rumours that are inevitably about to spread concerning the two of them will be a pain to deal with after he and Gwen have gone months without them. 

Finally they reach an abandoned servants’ room and she shoves him in.

“Now just one second-”

“Everyone’s asleep, we’ll be fine.” She promises as she closes the door behind them, before indicating he should sit on one side of the table. 

He quietly disagrees, the two servants they’ve just passed seeming like good evidence to the contrary, but decides that isn’t a route he wants to go down. 

She crosses her arms. “Now come on. Out with it.”

“With what?”

“Whatever has you so upset!” She says in exasperation. “I’ve spent all this time trying to knock some sense into you but that doesn’t mean I like to see you like this.” She reaches across the table to take his hand. “I know Merlin hurt you Arthur. But even when he was lying he was still your friend.”

Arthur looks away. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what?” 

He swallows, unsure whether he actually wants to talk about this. And with Gwen of all people. That would be tactless, wouldn’t it? To involve her in this, in his own confusing feelings for Merlin after he has allowed whatever he and Gwen had shared to die a slow and complicated death.

“I know you were in love with Lance.” He begins and she flinches, pulling her hand away from him in surprise. “While the two of us… Anyway.” He clears his throat. “How did you know? When you were in love with two people?”

Understanding dawns on her face. “Oh,” she whispers. “You’ve figured it out.”

He frowns at her. “What?”

But she shakes her head and answers his first question. “I just knew, Arthur. He became somebody that it hurt for me to live without, and eventually I realized that I didn’t want to. But I wanted you too.” Her eyes soften. “It wasn’t fair, I know that. But I couldn’t help it; when he was gone, I thought about him all the time. I just… felt it.” She looks down. “I still do.”

He isn’t upset at her answer, which probably surprises them both. Instead he just looks at her, taking in what she’s said and realizing that Kilgharrah is right.

Gods, he’s right. Arthur is a complete fool.

He’d wondered why he seemed more upset at Merlin lying to him than Gwen had. Or why the others seem like they’ve been able to move on alright. They’d been friends with Merlin too, and yet Arthur has been the only one out of them all who hasn’t been able to move on without him. He’d wondered, and a part of him might have even realized the answer without him willing to acknowledge it, but now, with the dragon having said it out loud, he can’t pretend anymore.

Arthur understands now as he faces Gwen. She had chosen Merlin, all that time ago, when she’d kept Merlin’s secret for him, and Arthur had felt betrayed. 

But now he realizes that he had chosen Merlin too. He’d chosen his grief over Merlin instead of his love for Gwen. He had shut her out while he agonized alone, until she’d been pushed away for good, unable to reach him as he’d wallowed in his heartbreak.

Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? Merlin has broken his heart. And if Arthur is honest with himself, he’d chosen his servant over Gwen long before he’d known about the magic.

He’d spent so long ignoring that side of his relationship with Merlin that, until the day Merlin had admitted his magic, Arthur had managed to go on as if they really were just unusual friends. A servant and his prince. Closer than most, but still nothing more. Nothing deeper. He hadn’t allowed them to acknowledge anything else.

And after the truth had come out Arthur had wasted hours at night trying to confront his feelings, but the suspicion that it had all been some sort of magical trick cast by Merlin had only raised more questions than answers.

Until now. 

If the dragon is telling the truth- and Arthur had no reason to think he isn’t when it came to this- Merlin is long gone, far away travelling, and the idea of a love spell is nothing more than Arthur’s willful denial at this point.

“You knew didn’t you?” Arthur searches her face.

She looks a cross between pitying and understanding. Arthur hates it. “I wondered. You were both…” She shakes her head and cuts herself off. “Yes. I knew. Just like you knew about me and Lance.”

Arthur swallows and nods in a short and jerky movement. He’s beginning to think that he really is the most oblivious person in all of Camelot. Not only had he missed his servant’s magic but he’d also failed to figure out that he’s in love with said servant.

All those memories of the times when Merlin had called him oblivious and stuck in his own head were starting to take on a whole new feeling.

“Will it ever go away?”

She shakes her head. “It hasn’t for me.”

He nods, feeling a pang at the thought that he and his father are the ones keeping Lance away from Camelot and causing Gwen this grief. He feels worse when he remembers it’s him and his father that are keeping Merlin away too.

“Gwen,” he whispers finally. “I’ve made a mistake.”

“Oh Arthur.” She clasps his hand and for the first time since Merlin left she looks at him like she’d used to. With hope. And when she smiles he feels comforted for the first time since then too. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as alwaysss come scream with us on tumblr; yourstrulytaaay and percyjacksonfan3


	5. and you're not here to get me through it all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lau and I are Canadian so today's election is not something we have any control over, however we hope this update can help take everyone's minds off of it, if only for a little bit

The conversation with Gwen had been… enlightening, to say the least. Arthur knows that he will have to deal with his feelings for Merlin sometime soon, and it's comforting to know that he will have a confidante of sorts in Gwen. 

To know that she will be happier with someone else has also, perhaps surprisingly, come as a relief. Lancelot is a good soldier, and an even better man. He will be good for Gwen, in all the ways that Arthur knows he himself could not be. He makes a note to himself to have Lance found and brought back to Camelot as soon as possible. 

It was, he supposes, rather bittersweet that the woman he had once fancied himself in love with was moving on while Arthur is stuck in a limbo of sorts; in love with Merlin, but still so, so angry at him. Sure, the feeling of betrayal has faded, but Arthur can’t help but still feel anger and frustration towards Merlin.

Well.

Maybe not towards Merlin. Arthur knows that if he’s being honest with himself, he’s truly only angry and frustrated at the fact that he’s in this position. Being the prince, and the son of Uther Pendragon, in particular, meant that the way he has been raised is not simple to overcome or ignore. He has grown up being told to believe every single word his father said; every law his father made went unquestioned, and every decision followed to the letter. If he wasn’t a Pendragon, or royalty, or if they didn’t live in Camelot, maybe things could have been different. Maybe Merlin would never have kept his magic a secret, and maybe they would have been able to be together. Maybe-

Arthur stops himself. It’s too hard to continue to think of the what-ifs or the maybes. It hurts too much to continue to long for a man that is no longer in his life.

The walk back to his quarters is filled with a feeling of loss; loss over banishing Merlin, and loss over losing the chance to love him. Arthur  _ missed _ him. Yes, he was still angry- unbelievably so- but that doesn’t mean that his feelings for the young man have just vanished. 

No. In fact, they have possibly grown stronger. The widespread notion of absence makes the heart grow fonder was clearly fairly accurate, if Arthur’s own heart was anything to go by.

His chest aches at the thought that Merlin will never know how truly Arthur loves him, and that fact that eventually Merlin will move on. Maybe he’ll settle down with a nice girl and have children with her; kids with hair as dark as his and cheekbones that could cut, or a smile that could brighten any person’s day and a mischievous streak. Maybe-

No.

It’s all starting to hurt even more as the full realizations sink in, and Arthur knows that going down this line of thinking will not lead anywhere good. Thinking of the possibility of the two of them being together was torture enough, but thinking of Merlin moving on with someone else hurt even worse.

He reaches the door to his quarters and finds it open. When he hesitantly looks inside he’s met with the sight of Morgana sitting at his desk. She looks- well  _ furious _ would be one word for it.

“Morgana, I-”

“Arthur Pendragon, if you even tell me for one second that you  _ don’t feel like talking right now _ I will lose my gods damned mind.”

He sighs. He knows that he will not win an argument against her when she’s in a mood like this, so he just gestures for her to continue. Her eyes flash with something akin to sadness and regret before they settle on cold anger.

“Where has Merlin gone?”

Arthur freezes. This was not the conversation he was expecting to have after all this time. And not one he feels particularly up to tonight, after all he has just been through. “What do you mean? I already told you. I sacked him.”

Morgana rolls her eyes. “If you really expect me to believe that, you must be stupider than I thought. That boy is your best friend, your only friend really, and you just  _ sacked  _ him?”

“He was my  _ servant _ , Morgana, not my friend.” The rebuttal comes automatically but it tastes sour in his mouth now.

She scoffs, “Arthur, do you believe me to be that stupid?”

“Morgana, I don’t believe you to be stupid at all. I am telling the truth. I sacked him and he’s gone. There’s nothing else to say.”

“There’s so much left to say!” She smacks his desk in frustration, green eyes hurt. “You can talk to me, Arthur, you know you can. I won’t tell Uther.”

He clenches his fist, trying to ground himself. Too much has happened tonight, his head was spinning and his body was ready to give out from exhaustion. Arthur’s surprised he can still see straight at this point.

“Morgana please.” He is not above begging, not tonight. “I’m tired and it’s late. Can this not wait one more day?”

Indecision is clear on her face but soon her expression hardens. “No it cannot. You’ve avoided me for months. Enough time has passed. We’re talking about this now.”

“There’s nothing to talk  _ about _ .” He says in exasperation, reminding himself that if Merlin hadn’t told Morgana about his magic it is hardly Arthur’s place to do so. 

“You’re a liar.” Morgana glares. “You’re a liar and you’re a coward, just like Uther.”

Arthur raises a hand to point at her while taking a step forward. “Don’t go there.”

“I thought you were different, I thought you were becoming more mature. But this is just like something Uther would do, sacking a servant who’s spent years devoted to you just because he- he stepped out of line or something just as inconsequential. What happened? Did Merlin tease you one too many times? Forget to bring you a pitcher of water when you’re more than capable of getting it yourself? Or did he sleep in because he was tired of you running him ragged-”

“Morgana!” Arthur yells. “Stop, alright? Please. It’s nothing like that, you don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Then tell me!” She pleads wildly, moving from the desk to stand in front of him. “You’re miserable, Gwen’s angry, Merlin vanished… what am I supposed to do? I know Gwen knows but she won’t tell me either. She said to ask you.”

_ Thanks a lot, Gwen. _

“Arthur, come on. You don’t have to keep this bottled up. We both know where that will lead to.”

His father’s face flashes in his mind.

“It’s too dangerous.” He doesn’t know who he’s protecting as he says it. 

She scoffs and flicks her hair back over a shoulder. “I can handle it. You know I’m stronger than I look.”

He presses his lips together and looks away angrily. “It’s not just dangerous for you, Morgana.”

That makes her frown, and by the time he looks back at her face he sees her eyes searching his as she tries to work out what he wasn’t saying.

“For... Merlin?” She tentatively guesses. “Or for you?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Arthur, you’re scaring me.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and scrubs his hands over his face. “Just leave it.”

“No, maybe I can help-”

“You can’t, alright?” He finally snaps. “If I tell you, that’s just another person who could tell Uther, and then even I won’t be safe from his wrath. He’s insane when it comes to magic, Morgana, you know that as well as I do.”

Her gasp echoes in the room as Arthur’s heart drops.

He’s slipped up.

“Magic?” She whispers. “Who…  _ Merlin _ ?”

Arthur turns away, thinking quickly, but he doesn’t know what he can say that will make this any better. There is nothing he can do to play this off.

“Merlin’s a sorcerer.” She says slowly, staring down at the floor before abruptly looking up at him with angry eyes. “And you found out somehow.”

Arthur swallows. “He told me.”

Morgana’s anger doesn’t ease as she puts the rest of it together. “And you sent him away.”

Arthur says nothing.

“So what? You cast him out?” When he still doesn’t reply she moves forward to shove his chest slightly, making him stumble backwards. “Answer me! Did you kill him?”

“No!”

“Exile him?”

He looks away.

“Right.” She nods to herself. “So you avoid breaking Uther’s laws and avoid executing Merlin, but you still don’t choose a side.” Her lip curls. “I was right. You are a coward.”

Arthur doesn’t disagree.

“And does that make you feel righteous? As long as you’re not as bad as Uther, you think that makes you good?” Her voice shakes. “You think Merlin is guilty just for being born a certain way?”

Arthur flinches but she takes it as a confirmation.

“How could you.” Her words fall down as condemnation as she pushes past him to leave his room.

Well. Arthur looks at the empty space she’d just occupied. Any hope of sleep is definitely gone now.

* * *

Days and weeks pass and slowly Morgana grows colder and quieter. Arthur had thought that maybe she would move past their conversation, but still she has yet to speak more than a few words to him. Nothing more was said than murmured pleasantries at dinner time. If Uther noticed the difference in her attitude, he’d said nothing of the sort.

By the time that the first frost rolls around, Morgana is just about as cold as the ground beneath their feet.

When Arthur tries to talk to her, she shuts him down. When he tries to explain his reasons for sending Merlin away, she scoffs and walks away. He doesn’t know how to get through to her and that’s the part that hurts the most. They may have fought like siblings for most of their lives, but they agree on more things than not, and have always had one another’s back. The cold reception stings more than Arthur would like it to, and it’s beginning to feel as if he is quickly losing all of his allies in Camelot.

_ Well of course you don’t, dollophead, you sent your best friend away _ , says a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Merlin.

He must sigh loudly, because his father looks up at him and gives him an impatient glare. They’re sitting in the hall, working on reports, though Arthur isn’t getting much done.

“What has gotten you all out of sorts?”

He wishes Uther would just leave it alone. He shrugs and simply says, “I didn’t sleep well last night. I suppose I’m just tired.”

The king looks as if he doesn’t believe him, but nods anyway. Arthur turns back to his work and tries to focus, but his father is still watching him.

“What is it, Father?”

“Are you sure you are alright?”

“Yes, as I’ve just said.”

Now his father just looks annoyed. “Don’t speak to me that way, Arthur.”

Anger and frustration curl up in Arthur’s chest. All he wants is to get these reports done so he can go back to his chambers for the rest of the day and hopefully not come out until the next morning, but his father seems intent on making it difficult. He tries to stop an argument before one even begins.

“I apologize, Father, I truly am just tired.”

Uther gazes at him for a while longer before finally nodding and going back to his work. Arthur lets out a relieved ( _ quietly  _ relieved) sigh and settles in to finish the last of his report.

Once he’s finished everything, he bids farewell to his father and walks out of the hall.

* * *

It’s well past midnight when Arthur is jolted out of sleep by his door creaking open. He feigns sleep for the amount of time that he takes to find the dagger he has hidden under his pillow and then leaps up, knife to the intruder’s throat.

It’s Morgana.

Arthur splutters in surprise, and- despite the dagger at her throat- Morgana just blinks at him, unimpressed.

“Arthur, will you put the knife down before you hurt yourself.”

“Hurt  _ myself _ ? I almost killed you!”

She scoffs in that regal manner that she always manages to achieve. “You wouldn’t have, and even if you  _ would _ have, you  _ couldn’t _ kill me.”

“I feel as if the dagger to your throat speaks differently but-”

“Arthur.”

Morgana’s tone of voice is harsh, but there is an underlying vulnerability to it. One that makes Arthur pause for a second and question, for the first time this night, why she’s even in his chambers. 

He takes in her appearance. She’s flawlessly dressed for the hour, not a hair out of place, but that is not unusual. Her eyes, however, are what give him pause. They are still cold, but there is an urgency, almost a panic, to them that has been absent for weeks now. 

Strangely, this sends a flood of relief through Arthur, and he realizes that the feeling is because Morgana is  _ here _ , finally talking to him.

“Morgana- what- what’s wrong?” His mind speeds up. Did something happen to her? To his father? To Guinivere? What-

“Arthur, I can see you thinking. Nothing bad has happened.”

“Then what-?”

She sighs, a long drawn out thing, and suddenly she looks like the young girl Arthur once knew. He moves to shrug on a shirt before he sits down at the table in his room and gestures for her to do the same. She does so, sitting primly, ever the proper ward of Uther Pendragon. Finally, after a long moment, she speaks.

“I just- I want to hear your full side of the story.”

“The story about…?” At her exasperated look, he realizes, and finishes the question with dread. “Merlin?”

“Yes, of course Merlin. Who else would I be talking about?”

Arthur suddenly feels tired. For the past few months, all he’s done is grin and bear his duties as prince and he’s-

He’s sick of it. He misses Merlin; he misses his best friend and the man he loves. He just wants to talk about his decision without feeling scared of the repercussions on Merlin.

“I- you have to understand, Morgana, the reason I sent him away- it wasn’t…” He sighs and looks down, forcing himself to admit what he realized only days ago. “I love him.”

If Morgana’s face is any indication, she is not surprised by this admission at all. He goes on.

“I didn’t send him away from Camelot because I hate sorcery, Morgana, I sent him away because all I could see in my head when he told me was him strapped to a pyre  _ burning _ , and I can’t- I just couldn’t bear to even think about that for a moment longer. He wasn’t  _ safe _ here, and making him go was the only thing I could think to do to keep him safe. I- I just couldn’t think of anything else to do.

“And  _ yes _ , I was angry. I felt betrayed that he kept such a big secret from me, for so long. But… I’m not mad anymore. And all I can think is that I made such a huge mistake, because even though it’s terrifying to think of him here and so close to danger, it’s even worse to not know where he is or if he’s okay. I love him and I miss him and I... Gods, I just want him back.”

Morgana’s face holds no more of her previous resentment. Instead, all Arthur can see is sadness and pity.

“Arthur, I- I had no idea how you truly felt. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself before.”

Arthur shrugs, feeling exhausted after his speech. “It’s alright, Morgana. I understand your anger; I would have been just as angry if our positions had been reversed. Merlin is your friend as well, you have every right to wonder what happened to him. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you immediately.”

Her face softens completely, finally. She reaches out and clasps his arm with her hands.

“I will admit that I thought you had the same prejudices against magic users as your father does. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt.”

Arthur shakes his head and shifts so that he can grasp one of her hands in his own. “It’s been hard to shake a lot of what my father has taught me, but I  _ know _ Merlin, and I know in my heart and soul that he is not evil- he never could be.” Arthur releases a pent up breath. “And if he is magic and not evil, then other sorcerers must be the same. I think I’ve come to realize that Father acts out of fear of the unknown, not because he actually believes that all sorcery is evil. And I have begun to look at magic the same as any other weapon. It’s not the tool that matters, but the person wielding it.”

Morgana’s grip tightens and she looks almost relieved at what Arthur is saying.

“You will be an amazing king, Arthur.”

* * *

For what feels like the thousandth time in the past few months, Arthur feels as if something is not quite right with his father.

What had at first seemed like the usual ravings of a man who hated magic now sound like claims of him being attacked constantly from all sides. Arthur knows that more and more people are starting to look at Uther oddly whenever he goes on his long tirades about the evils of magic, and even his most loyal supporters seem to be questioning his orders increasingly.

Sure, Uther has hated magic and spoke out against it for Arthur’s entire life, but never have his claims been so unfounded and irregular. Though he has often been rash in his sentencing the sorcerers in Camelot to death, there was usually a kernel of truth in what the king saw as threats.

Now it is almost as if Uther has begun seeing things that aren’t there at all, and he has started sending his men to hunt down creatures and sorcerers that didn’t even seem to exist in the first place. The soldiers were beginning to get frustrated with being sent on sometimes weeks-long expeditions only to come back home empty handed. The citizens of Camelot, too, were starting to get angrier and angrier at the fact that their complaints were being sidelined to the supposed threats that they could not even see.

It seems as if everyone and their mother are talking about the king - and not in a good way. Arthur has even heard whispers in the hall that could almost be considered treasonous.

The sad thing, the crippling thing, is that he understands their feelings. Just the other day, Arthur had to sternly talk his father down from hunting yet another phantom creature. And though he had been levelled with Uther’s oh-so-familiar gaze of disappointment, the soldiers had let loose an audible sigh of relief. Uther, of course, had been too busy muttering about the dangers of magic to notice, or else Arthur would have had a lot less men under his command for a while.

Morgana and Arthur have gone to Gaius to seek treatment, but to no avail. Uther refuses examination, and there is not much his son and ward can do past that.

Currently, the three of them are seated in the dining hall for dinner. What had started as a civil meal has quickly devolved into a tense affair, with many pointed jabs coming from Morgana - not that Uther notices at all.

“There are sorcerers plotting against me.” said Uther.

“Is. That.  _ So _ ?” Morgana replies, forcefully stabbing the meat on her plate with every word.

“We cannot let our guard down, an attack from those who practice magic is imminent.” He practically shouts at another point.

“Yes, and that would be absolutely  _ horrible _ .” Morgana says back, voice absolutely dripping with sarcasm.

Uther notices none of this, and only seems to become more and more agitated as the night goes on. Arthur watches them both with a sinking feeling in his chest. This is the worst that Arthur has ever seen his father, and he doesn’t think he could stand to listen to him for much longer. As Uther’s rants get more and more hateful, the more dread begins to settle in Arthur’s stomach.

_ What did Merlin think every time that my father went on one of these tangents and I didn’t stop him? No wonder he was scared to tell me anything, I- _

Arthur is snapped out of his thoughts by Uther slamming his fist against the table.

“I will  _ not _ be questioned by you, Morgana!”

_ Oh dear Gods _ .

“Yes you bloody well  _ will _ , Uther! I am sick and tired of your ranting and raving! There are no conspiracies against you! You are chasing ghosts and shadows!”

“There is evil in the world! Just because you cannot see it, does not mean it’s not there.”

Morgana lets out an unladylike snort, “You would know  _ all about _ unseen evil, wouldn’t you,  _ Uther _ ?”

By now, the king is standing at the head of the table, glaring down at his ward.

“How  _ dare _ -

“Father.”

“-you! I have given you everything you have every wanted and  _ more _ and you dare call me  _ evil _ ?”

“And yet you stand there, ordering the murder of hundreds -  _ thousands _ \- of innocent people!”

“No one-

“Father!”

“-who practices magic is innocent! Morgana, how can you not see this?”

“Because  _ I  _ have magic!”

It feels as if time has stopped, and the air in the room has escaped. The only noise in the room is the crackle of the fire. Arthur looks at Morgana in shock.

Uther gives a valiant shake of his head, “No, you are not a sorcerer, stop being foolish.”

“Oh but Uther, I  _ am _ .” She gives an ugly smile, and suddenly Arthur’s not sure how they’ve gotten here or what’s going to happen. Does he step in? Wait it out? Get his father out of the room immediately?

Before he can decide, Morgana decides for him. Her eyes flash amber - that beautiful amber colour that Merlin’s had turned all those months ago - and the candles burn out.

She turns to look at Arthur, and he can see that she is not just angry but also incredibly upset. There is fear there, in her eyes, that reminds him too much of what he’d seen from Merlin that day in the woods. 

He still has no idea what to do. She must see the indecision in his expression, because her eyes shutter closed and any hope in them fades. She turns back to Uther, raising an eyebrow.

The king rallies himself remarkably quickly and fixes Morgana with a stern look. “You expect me to believe you have magic with that? All you just proved is that there is a draft in this hall. Besides, no daughter of mine could have magic.”

Both Arthur and Morgana freeze..

_ What? _

Uther sits back down calmly, not even having the state of mind to realize that he has just confessed his largest secret. Arthur feels off balance, even though he’s sitting down, and Morgana-

Morgana looks as if her whole world just shifted, and well… Arthur supposes it has. He tries to catch her eye, to see if she’s alright, but she doesn’t even blink from staring at where Uther is now sitting. Slowly, Arthur sees her draw herself up to her full height, hands shaking until she clenches the side of the table to hold herself up, and steels herself.

“I am not your daughter.”

Uther glances up, clearly confused. “Yes you are.”

“No, I am not.”

“Morgana, yes you are.”

_ Good gods, does he not even realize what he’s telling us? _

Morgana looks worked up, almost as if she is ready to throw a tantrum.

_ Or cast a spell _ .

_ Fuck _ .

Arthur knows that if he were in her position, he would be just as angry. He  _ also _ knows, however, that he can’t let her harm his -  _ their _ \- father.

He tries to speak, but Morgana gets there first. “If I am your daughter, you would really hate me for my magic? For who I am?”

Uther scoffs. “Stop this nonsense Morgana-”

With another flash of her eyes, Morgana sends the chandelier crashing onto the table below it- right in front of Uther. Arthur springs up to avoid the debris. For the first time that night, Uther looks terrified.

“ _ Sorcery _ ,” he says in a hiss, as if Morgana had not already told him what she was.

“You want people who practice magic to be evil  _ so bad _ , Uther. Did it ever occur to you that  _ you _ are the evil one in this situation?”

Arthur slowly inches his way in between his father and his sister -  _ seriously what the fuck is his life coming to?- _ Morgana looks at him in betrayal.

“You would stand with a man who would knowingly murder someone you  _ love _ , Arthur?”

He flinches at the reminder that she knows about Merlin - everything about Merlin.

His stomach falls, the pit that had been growing all night opening up inside of him to swallow everything whole and leave him feeling empty. Morgana knows everything about Merlin, and there is hurt and anger in her face that makes Arthur nervous.

Will she tell Uther? Would she betray Merlin in that way?

Arthur doesn’t know if she will or not, so he quickly speaks up to avoid any possibility of that happening. “Morgana, I am standing beside my -  _ our _ \- father.”

Her answering laugh is so shrill that he almost doesn’t recognize the sound as coming from her. “ _ My _ father is dead.”

Uther shakes his head rapidly, the first movement he’s made in a while. “ _ No _ !  _ I _ am your father, Morgana. That is why you are here, it’s why I decided to take you in.”

She stares at them both in horror and Arthur watches as she visibly regains control of herself. When she clears her throat it sounds painful. “I don’t care if you are my blood. You are not, and you never will be, my father.”

With that, she storms out of the hall.

Arthur takes a moment to gather himself. Uther is staring at the door, shock written all over his face. With a shake of his head and one last look at his father, Arthur runs out of the hall after her.

By the time he catches up to Morgana, she’s already in her chambers, throwing some of her valuables into a bag.

“Morgana, what- what are you doing?”

“I’m leaving, Arthur.”

“Leaving? Where are you going?”

“Away from  _ here _ .”

She’s storming around her room and Arthur has to step in front of her, grabbing her shoulders.

“Morgana,  _ slow down _ , please.”

She takes his hands from her shoulders and pushes him. The shock of it sends him stumbling back, and he gapes at her.

“You are a coward, Arthur. I knew it from the moment I found out about Merlin, and I was only proven correct tonight.”

“I- Morgana....”

“You tell me you love Merlin, you tell me you accept his magic, you tell me you don’t agree with your father, and yet you  _ still _ side with him. Against me? Meaning... what? Magic is only good if it’s Merlin? That he is the only one you love enough to forgive?”

“Gods, Morgana,  _ no _ . Father’s delirious, I didn’t think fighting him would solve anything!”

“Oh and siding  _ with _ him would be better? Admit it, Arthur, you still have the same prejudice against sorcerers as your father.”

“Mor-”

“Save it Arthur. I’m leaving.” 

She grabs her things and heads for the door. Before she completely opens it, she turns back towards him. “Sooner or later your choices are going to come back to haunt you. You may want to think about that before the next time someone you supposedly love has a secret this big.”

She’s gone before Arthur can reply.

* * *

In the months following Morgana leaving Camelot, Uther’s condition worsens. Before, he had been ranting and raving about the evils of magic to anyone who would listen, but now he is practically a shell. There is no life to him, no emotion; not even anger.

The soldiers sent out to look for Morgana have returned with nothing and Arthur isn’t surprised. Though Morgana had grown up in this castle with him, she is one of the most resourceful and determined people he knows. Arthur doesn’t think they’ll see her again unless she wants them to.

The first couple months without her Arthur had tried his hardest to be a strong presence for his father and his kingdom. But it has been hard to move on when two of the people closest to him have left. Two people who he has always trusted to speak against him when they disagreed with him and thought he was wrong.

Morgana and Merlin had been the bearings of his moral compass, though Arthur hadn’t realized until now, when it is too late. Now the only people he has around him that he trusts are Gwen, Gaius and the knights and though he appreciates them dearly, it’s not the same. 

The people have noticed that Uther is not the strong leader he once was. They are starting to become angry and demand to know what has happened to the man sworn to lead them and to their beloved ward. Arthur knows better than to tell the truth, but coming up with a convincing lie has proven quite difficult. The citizens of Camelot believe that Morgana has run away with a forbidden love, and that Uther has injured himself horribly in a fight for her and is unable to leave his chambers until he has healed.

Arthur knows his people are not stupid and that the lie will not keep them happy for very long, but it is  _ something _ , at least.

Uther barely eats, barely sleeps and barely talks. Gaius had been examining him a few times a day, but has now increased the frequency of his visits to once every hour. The last time he had exited the room that day, he had looked at Arthur with such a grave expression that the prince had felt his heart drop to his knees.

Now, he is sitting in Gaius’ chambers, waiting for the old man to return once again. Sitting in silence, he glances around. Gaius, a man of habit, has barely rearranged his chambers in the entire time that Merlin has been gone. Arthur doesn’t know if this is a way of preserving the man’s memory of him, or if that is just the way Gaius is.

A glance at the door to the room that was once Merlin’s sends a wave of sadness through Arthur. Not for the first time that day, Arthur allows himself to feel regret at making Merlin leave in the first place. If he was here, could he possibly heal Uther? Did spells exist for such conditions? 

Even if he couldn’t heal him, Arthur thought, if Merlin were here then Arthur would at the very least still have his best friend by his side to support him.

The sound of footsteps breaks Arthur out of his thoughts and he turns to see Gaius come through the door. The old man raises his eyebrow but otherwise looks unsurprised.

“Sire.”

Arthur nods, “Arthur, Gaius, please call me Arthur.”

“What can I do for you, Arthur?”

“What news about my father?”

The sigh that Gaius gives is heavy and filled with sadness. Arthur’s stomach drops. He knows what that means.

“How much longer does he have?”

“Arthur, he... He’s not eating, he’s not sleeping, and he hasn’t moved from his bed in weeks. He’s sick. He doesn’t have long.”

Arthur crumples in on himself, hanging his head. How did it come to this? How did the strong man his father once was become such a shell of a human being with no outward cause?

Could heartbreak kill a man? Arthur had always thought it was impossible, because Uther has survived this long after losing Arthur’s mother, but perhaps Morgana’s loss has been too much for him.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and looks over to see Gaius sitting there next to him, without looking at him or saying a word.

“So, what? Weeks? Days? Hours? How long does he have?”

Gaius turns to him again, a grave look in his eye. “At most, I would hazard a few days.” He sighs again, but then seems to resolve himself to something. “Arthur, do you know what this means?”

He does. In the next few days he will have to take on the title of Prince Regent, and once Uther passes on, Arthur will become King of Camelot. He nods resolutely, feeling as if all the weight in the world has fallen on his shoulders.

_ Merlin would know what to do _ .  _ He would never just sit here without trying some ridiculous plot first. _

_ Actually. _

_ Merlin can come back once your father is dead _ , his traitorous mind whispers insidiously to him. It’s not wrong, not a word of it is a lie, but Arthur immediately feels horrible for even thinking such a thing. 

This is his  _ father _ . He doesn’t want him to die, no matter what he has realized about Uther lately. In fact, he’s absolutely terrified of ruling on his own. 

Uther wasn’t always the warmest father, but his guidance in ruling has always been valuable to Arthur. Without that, he fears he would be lost. 

He swallows and nods his thanks to Gaius without saying a word before pulling away to leave. His walk back to his father’s room is slow and passes without him noticing a single face he passes.

It is time to face reality. Uther is dying and that means Arthur will soon be king.

But not today. Today he still has his father, and Arthur sinks down to sit at his bedside, clasping hold of his hand, all the while wishing everything was different.

* * *

Three chimes of the bell signify the death of King Uther Pendragon.

Four days after Arthur talks to Gaius, Uther passes into the next realm. Arthur takes solace in the fact that his father had obviously been suffering but now that suffering had ended. In his last few hours, Uther had even seemed to come back to himself.

“Be strong, Arthur.”

His throat feels thick as he swallows. “I’ll try, but Father-I don’t know how to do this without you… I’m not ready.”

“You have always known how to rule. Even when you were young, I could see that you would be a good king one day.”

“Father, I-”

“I will be leaving this world soon, Arthur, but you will be okay. And I will always be looking over you.”

Arthur lets out a trembling breath and grabs his father’s hand, leaning his forehead against it.

“Tell Morgana,” Uther’s whisper was paper-thin and so reedy Arthur has to bend far forward to hear it, “that I am sorry it had to be this way. And that she is mine, no matter what she says.”

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, knowing that these words are the last thing Morgana will wish to hear.

Uther’s last moment is used to breathe out a single word.

_ Ygraine _ .

It is Gaius who closes the king’s eyelids with trembling fingers, the sheen of tears in his eyes. Arthur can do nothing but stare at his father.

It’s like he was asleep.

The funeral has been in preparation for days now, since Gaius first gave Arthur the news, and so they hold it within three days. Afterwards Arthur stands at his father’s tomb, feeling entirely alone.

The next day, Arthur stands in front of the court as the sun blasts through the windows of the throne room, a new crown atop his head.

“The king is dead. Long live the king.” Leon is the one who starts the chant, and quickly the rest of the knights join in. Soon the entire room is filled with the words; every person’s voice loud as their beaming faces look up at him.

Arthur can only stare back at them all, keenly aware of all the faces the crowd is missing as the crown’s weight rests heavily on his brow.

The Once and Future King was crowned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lau and I just finished our rewatch of the show and are currently in mourning lmao, please come scream and cry with us on tumblr @ yourstrulytaaay and percyjacksonfan3 !!  
> we super hope you love this chapter and can't wait for y'all to read the rest of it!


	6. and if only I could hold you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> covid 19 has got me down lately so that's why the update is a little later today, sorry bout that!! - Tay

The visit with his mother had been nice. In all honesty, it was also much needed. Merlin missed his mother so much in the time since he last saw her, he just-

He would have preferred that his visit back to Ealdor had been under different circumstances.

After a few months in his old village though, Merlin begins to grow restless. He knows he can’t go back to Camelot - not yet, at least - but he feels uneasy about staying in one place. He doesn’t trust King Cenred and his army either. It’s not just Ealdor, it’s Merlin. He feels… unsafe.

Maybe it’s because he’s so used to having Arthur at his back, confident that he’ll protect him. Maybe it’s just the change in scenery and circumstances. Either way, after a long talk with Hunith, Merlin finds himself on his way to Mercia, intent on seeking training in healing magic from a group of Druids.

He soon finds them in the Forest of Engred, their village camouflaged by cloaking spells and the natural foliage surrounding it. As he gets closer, the hum of magic from the spell gets louder and louder and he can feel it thrumming under his skin.

For the first time since he left Camelot, he feels more secure in his choice.

_ Emrys _ .

Merlin’s head snaps up.

_ Where are you? _ He answers back, looking around and trying to spot the owner of the mysterious voice.

Suddenly a young woman appears in front of him and Merlin jumps back, heart pounding. He lets out an inaudible gasp at how close she’s standing to him and nearly falls backwards.

“Emrys.” She says in the same high voice that was in his head. “We’re so glad you could join us. Come, you must be weary after your journey.”

All Merlin can do is nod dumbly and hurry to catch up to her once she’s gotten far enough away. They make their way through the forest and then in a blink of an eye, they’re within the walls of a village. There must be some strong diversion magic at work, because when Merlin looks up, he even notices a flock of birds avoiding the area above the village.

The young woman looks back at him, amused by his obvious awe. “Welcome to Rowanhurst.”

* * *

After a few weeks in the company of the Druids, Merlin begins to feel restless again. He can’t help but worry about Arthur, and wonder what is happening in Camelot. Ceri, the woman who had first greeted him, looks at him in understanding when he begins to reminisce about his time in Camelot, and he wonders exactly how much he betrays when he speaks of Arthur.

Currently, she and Merlin are picking herbs in the forest surrounding Rowanhurst, replenishing the healer’s stock.

“Do you miss Camelot, Emrys?”

Merlin breathes in deeply. The name that the Druids have given him is not one he will ever get used to, but his efforts to get them to call him by his given name have been futile. “All the time.” He answers honestly, because what good is lying to her?.

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?”

He hesitates. Once upon a time, he never would have even left the kingdom in the first place; not permanently, anyway. Thinking about going back fills him with a rush of sadness, regret, anger, fear, and most of all… anticipation.

“I… I’m honestly not sure. I’m fairly certain that Arthur hates me, and magic could very well be outlawed still, even after he becomes king.”

Ceri looks conflicted and a little sad. “But…what about your destiny?”

Merlin gives a rueful smile. “I think I’m already going against that by being here right now, instead of by Arthur’s side. Besides, the prophecy has always been incredibly vague. Maybe it will come true anyway.”

She doesn’t look completely reassured, but Merlin chooses to move on to another topic.

“Do you want to stay in Rowanhurst for the rest of your life, or do you think you’ll leave at some point?”

Ceri looks up at the sky and takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t born here, you know.”

“Really?”

She keeps looking up. “No. My parents were Druids of Camelot. They were killed in the Purge after Uther ordered an attack on our village over 10 years ago.”

Merlin clenches his fists and yanks out the herb in front of him. “I thought Uther didn’t attack Druids. You’re peaceful people.”

“Yes, we are. But my parents belonged to a camp of Druids who made no concessions to Uther. We refused to give up our magic or stop sharing it with others who came calling. Years of habit are hard to break, and many ordinary citizens of Camelot were used to buying magical solutions to their problems. We supplied them even after Uther’s ban.”

She shakes her head and looks back down to keep working. “All we were doing was helping people. But Uther couldn’t make allowances. He ordered our camp slaughtered.”

Merlin’s voice is hushed. “I’m so sorry.”

She nods. “My parents were killed right in front of me. I was 12 years old. It’s only because one Camelot knight took mercy on me and allowed me to run that I survived.” She lifts her head and meets his eyes. “I met a few others who made it out. We joined together and travelled where we could. A few left along the way, finding people or places that they said felt like home, but most of us journeyed here, to Rowanhurst. A hidden refuge for our people.”

Merlin’s throat feels thick as he swallows. 

“So, no, Emrys, I don’t ever wish to leave. I miss Camelot every day, but I miss what it once was, before Uther’s rage consumed him and he tortured my people. Until I see proof of our freedom and peace in Camelot I will not step one foot back there. And nowhere else has ever felt like home.”

Merlin reaches over to lightly touch her arm. “It will be different.” He vows. “I know Arthur. He is not his father, he is good, with a good heart. One day he will do what is right and allow magic back into the kingdom.”

“Oh Emrys,” Ceri looks at him pityingly. “If he was not willing to do it for you then what makes you think he will ever change his mind?”

But Merlin is shaking his head before she even finishes. “I’m just one servant. Magic users are a whole group of Arthur’s people, and he cares about his subjects more than anything. He will repeal the ban on magict, I know it.”

“Even now you trust him.” Ceri sounds in awe. “I wish I had that kind of faith.”

“It’s only because of Arthur.” Merlin replies, and it’s true. Even after everything that has happened between them, Merlin knows Arthur is the ruler Camelot needs. They just have to wait until he becomes king so he has the power to do it.

“You’ll see,” he says as he picks another herb. “One day you will be able to return to Camelot.”

“I hope you’re right.” She murmurs.

They continue to work in silence.

* * *

The last time Merlin had seen Morgana, she had seemed happy and carefree. The Morgana that walks into Rowanhurst is the farthest thing from his memories of her, and seeing this version of her is shocking, to say the least.

No longer is she the perfectly put together ward of the king. She’s wearing dark, ripped clothing and her hair is a mess. Her face when she spots Merlin though, is as kind as the day he met her. 

She runs up to him and wraps him in a hug. “ _ Merlin _ !”

“Morgana? What- why are you  _ here _ ?”

“I heard rumour that you were living with a Druid community in Mercia and I wanted to come visit you.”

“But- why would you leave Camelot?” He looks behind her. “How could you come alone?”

Her face clouds, and something like grief seems to come over her. She meets his eyes fiercely. “I think you know why.”

He inhales sharply. Arthur wouldn’t have- not another friend-?

“I know what you’re thinking, and no - it was not technically Arthur’s fault this time.”

“Then what-? Wait,  _ this time _ ?”

“It was Uther. He informed me in a state of madness that he is my true father in the same breath that he condemned magic users of being made of evil.”

A surge of anger and defiance rises up in Merlin. During his time in Camelot he never liked Uther, for many different reasons, but knowing that the man has cast out his apparent daughter is an entirely new level. There’s still sadness in Morgana’s eyes, but more than that she seems… resigned. Merlin knows what happens to people who have been rejected by the ones they love and respect, and he shivers to think of Morgana turning out the same way.

She interrupts that train of thought with a revelation that makes him freeze. “Merlin… Arthur told me about your magic.”

The statement sends a shock through his system. Arthur told someone else? Had he told his father?

Morgana answers his silent questions. “Uther doesn’t know. Not that it would matter if he did. And Arthur hasn’t told anyone else that I know of.”

He doesn’t want to know why Arthur has shared his secret with someone else, so he doesn’t ask. He knows that if he hears a reason he doesn’t want to hear, he’ll be crushed. Instead, he nods his head sharply.

It’s his own panic and fear that makes his words sharper than they would have been otherwise. “Why are you really here, Morgana? You wouldn’t come all this way for a casual visit.”

She tenses up, “I- I’m not here for any reason, Merlin.”

He raises an eyebrow and she seems to fold in on herself, suddenly looking so young as she avoids his eyes.

“I’m so  _ angry _ , Merlin. I just want to  _ do something _ and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I have no home, but I was hoping I would have allies. Specifically an ally in  _ you _ .”

“I will always be your friend Morgana.”

“No that’s-” she gives a frustrated sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”

Suddenly the thought of Morgana growing cold and bitter seems all too realistic and Merlin has to take a second to look at her face. Yes, she still looks gentle and kind, but there’s a hardness to her gaze that he hadn’t noticed before.

“Aren’t you angry as well, Merlin?”

The question makes him pause for even longer. Is he angry? Maybe he once was, but now all he feels is sadness and heartache. He answers honestly.

“No, I’m not.”

“How can you not be? You were  _ exiled _ .”

“Morgana, I- I have come to peace with everything that has happened. To be completely truthful, I was never really angry. Disappointed, yes. Sad,  _ definitely _ . But- not angry.”

Morgana’s posture grows stiffer with every word out of Merlin’s mouth and before he knows it, she’s getting up from the log that the two of them are sitting on.

“I’m glad you’re happy, Merlin, but I just don’t- feel the same. I should go.”

He grabs her hand quickly. “What? But you only just got here.”

She shakes her head. “There are others, waiting for me- I only came to find you.”

He drops his hand and frowns. “Who? Who’s waiting?”

Could it be Gwen? But then why wouldn’t Gwen have come to see him too? Maybe some of the knights? Leon had always had a soft spot for Morgana, though Merlin doesn’t think anything would make him abandon Camelot. He was like Arthur that way.

Who else would ally themselves with Morgana that Merin wouldn’t know?

“It doesn’t matter. But listen.” She grips his arm firmly. “If you ever change your mind… if you get tired of the world we live in being so unfair to us, come find me. I won’t turn you away like they did.”

“Morgana-”

She pulls him up and into an abrupt hug. He reciprocates automatically, hugging her back tightly. She’s shaking in his arms, and feels so thin that for the first time Merlin wonders how long it’s been since she left Camelot. Long enough to travel into Mercia. Long enough for gauntness to have begun sinking into her frame.

“I hope you’ll come.” She whispers, and her voice is trembling too. Morgana sounds lost, she sounds scared, and Merlin feels panic grip him as they pull away from one another.

“Morgana, just wait.You don’t have to leave so quickly, surely. Why not stay here a night or two. We can catch up and tell each other what we’ve missed.” He searches her face. “You don’t have to be alone.”

She looks down. “I’m not alone. Believe me, Merlin, now that I know who I am, I will never be alone again.”

He’s surprised at the fury in her eyes when she looks back up. Still, he tries again. “Morgana-”

“Goodbye, Merlin.” She takes his hand one last time as their eyes hold. “I hope you’ll change your mind.”

He senses that he won’t be able to make her stay no matter how hard he should try, so he lets her go with a squeeze of her hand and a nod of his head.

“I’m glad to have seen you.” He says.

She smiles, for a second looking like the woman he once knew, before she flicks up the hood of her cloak and strides over to mount her horse. 

With one last look between them, Morgana is gone.

* * *

Knowing that Morgana is no longer in the castle, and hearing rumours that Uther has begun to go mad, Merlin decides that it would be best to start making his way back to Camelot. He knows that he is still not welcome there, but during his time with the Druids, he has learned plenty of new tricks; for one, he can now disguise himself.

He bids Ceri and the other Druids farewell, the former giving him a hug so tight he feels as if he cannot breathe for the duration of it, and then sets off back toward Camelot. He’s disguised as an old man with his beard practically going down to his knees, white as ash.

As he makes his way back through the northern part of Escetir, he stops at a tavern to get some rest and some food in his belly. The thing he is not expecting to see, however, is an old friend.

Lancelot.

Merlin feels himself start to grin, but abruptly remembers that he is an old man, and Lance will not recognize him. He quickly schools his features but doesn’t turn away fast enough to avoid catching Lance’s eye. 

At first Merlin thinks he’s in the clear when all Lance does is skirt his eyes past him. This relief is short lived when Merlin sees Lance dart his eyes back towards what should, to him, look like an ancient man. Lance’s eyes widen, and he quickly excuses himself from the group of men he had been drinking with, before making his way over to Merlin. 

Merlin makes sure to put a sneer on his face, looking ever the image of a grumpy old man. As Lance strolls closer, his expression becomes more and more amused.

“Well, you’ve certainly gotten a lot older.”

Merlin the old man huffs out an annoyed breath and begins to speak in a croaky voice. “I have no idea what you could be talking about young man.”

Lance rolls his eyes, “I’m older than you, Merlin.”

“Who is Merlin? I am... Dragoon.”

“Cut it out, Merlin.”

Their eyes meet and Merlin sees no doubt or misgivings in his friend’s face. He decides keeping up the ruse is pointless.

“Fine,” he says in his normal voice.

Lance studies him for a couple seconds and then grins, wide and happy. “How are you?” Then he suddenly seems to remember that they’re both in Escetir, and Merlin looks old and Arthur is  _ definitely not with him _ . “Wait why are you  _ here _ ?” When Merlin hesitates to answer, he appears to grow more concerned, “Merlin, what’s going on?”

The younger man sighs and begins to tell his story. By the end of everything, Lance looks astounded. “I- you- Arthur sent you away?”

Merlin can feel his shoulders drop. “Yes."

"Forever?"

Merlin looks away again. "He said I'm exiled."

Lance leans forward, face and eyes intense. "Did he hurt you?"

"No!" Merlin answers immediately. "No, Lance, don't be stupid."

"Is it stupid?" Lance seems far too knowing. "So he never threatened you?"

That makes Merlin freeze, the memory of the cold tip or Arthur's sword at his throat coming back in a rush, and Lance sits back with an angry look on his face.

"It's Arthur," Merlin repeats eventually. "He never would have gone through with it. He didn't."

Lance shakes his head, and Merlin can't tell if it's from disagreement or unhappiness. But Lance doesn't say anything, and Merlin thinks that's the end of it. 

So he's incredibly surprised when the usually kind and chivalrous Lance lets out a curse. “Are you honestly telling me that the man who  _ owes you his life _ , sent you away because you kept a secret from him? A secret that kept you  _ safe _ ?”

“Lance- don’t.”

“Don’t  _ what _ , Merlin? Don’t get angry? Don’t defend you?”

“ _ Yes _ ! Don’t! He did what he thought was best for him and for the kingdom. I should probably be thankful that he didn’t attach me to a pyre himself and watch me burn. He let me leave.” Merlin takes another fortifying breath. “Besides, it’s not like I didn’t lie to him.”

The fight goes out of Lance. “Why are you defending him?”

Merlin struggles to find the words. “I- Arthur is…” 

He trails off, finally admitting what he’s never been able to before. Here, in this run-down, out-of-the-way tavern, Merlin confesses his final and biggest secret. “I love him. And in his eyes, I betrayed him. I guess- in a way- I understand.”

Lance looks at him sadly, a knowing look in his eyes. He looks lost in thought for a moment and Merlin knows what - or who - he’s thinking about. He uses that to change the conversation to a lighter subject.

“Gwen was doing really well last I saw, by the way.”

Lance rolls his eyes, “I know what you’re trying to do, Merlin, and it’s not going to work.”

Innocently, the sorcerer asks. “What  _ ever  _ could I be trying to do?”

His eyebrow goes up. “Distract me, maybe? Which, by the way,  _ would _ work if I didn’t already know how Gwen was doing.”

Merlin’s head whips toward him in surprise. “What do you mean, you already know? Have you been in Camelot recently?”

Lance pauses. “I- uh.” He clears his throat and tries again. “Arthur wrote to me and asked me to come back. He says he is in need of proper knights as many of the men his father’s appointed are growing too old to serve much longer. He may have also mentioned that his courtship with Gwen has ended but that she is well and still in employment at the castle.”

This is news to Merlin and he can’t help but feel… vaguely hopeful. Of course, Gwen and Arthur’s courtship ending does not mean that he hasn’t moved onto someone new but… Merlin can’t help but feel slightly happy. He hopes, of course, that Gwen is alright and not terribly heartbroken but… if Lancelot is going to be going back to Camelot, she may not be as heartbroken as he fears.

“So… you’re going back to Camelot? To serve as a knight?”

Finally, Lance’s grin is back. “Yes.”

“And Gwen?”

He blushes and ducks his head and Merlin has to bite back a smile. “Ah, well-” he coughs, “if Arthur and Gwen’s courtship has ended, I thought I may… stop by and say hello.”

“Just to say hello, hm?”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

Merlin’s smile begins to fade after a long moment. “So that’s where you’re headed then?”

“Yes, I’m just stopped here for the night.”

Merlin sighs, and at Lance’s curious look he explains. “I saw Morgana recently. She’s left Camelot and I fear that she may never come back.”

Lance looks startled. “What? Why would she leave?”

“She has magic, and she revealed it to Uther. You can guess that that did not go over well.”

“He really banished her?”

“Not exactly… She said that he was in denial for a bit and then she proved it. All he did was sit there in shock and she left.”

“And Arthur? What was his reaction?”

“According to Morgana, not a great one. She said she’d thought he would defend her but he said nothing. She’s angry, Lance, and hurt, and someone she thought she could trust did absolutely nothing when she needed him to.”

“Wait,” a thought seems to suddenly strike Lance. “Why did she come see you? What did she want?”

“That’s the worst part. She knows about my magic. She said Arthur told her. She was looking for an ally; someone who would know how she felt.”

“Why the hell would Arthur tell her?”

Merlin shrugs, at a loss. “I don’t know, really. Maybe he just wanted someone to talk to. Though, I don’t know why he wouldn’t have talked to Gwen; she knows about my magic too.”

Lance’s eyebrows creep up his forehead. “You know, Merlin, for a man who wants his magic to stay a secret, you sure seem fine with this many people knowing.”

Merlin snorts. “It wasn’t all my choice. Arthur was the only person I’ve told, apart from Gaius. You saw it, Gwen saw it, I saved Gwaine’s life - you haven’t met him yet - and Arthur told Morgana.”

Lance, of course, focuses on only one part of that sentence. “Gwen saw it too?”

“Yes,” Merlin rolls his eyes at the predictability of his friend, “she said that she started to become suspicious and eventually she saw me in action, but just never said anything until I was leaving.” His smile turns mischievous again. “It’s a good thing she knows, I guess. That way, you don’t have to hide it from her.”

“Why would I have to worry about keeping things from Gwen?”

“Lance, I’m not an idiot. I know you’re in love with her and you always have been. Now that she’s unattached to Arthur, why  _ wouldn’t _ you go after her? Wasn’t your sole reason for leaving last time because you didn’t want to get in the way of their relationship?”

“I mean… yes. It was. But that doesn’t mean that she’ll have me back.”

Well that’s just stupid. “Honestly, Lance, I also know that  _ you’re _ not an idiot. She will have you back, I have no doubts about that.”

“I-”

“No. I will not hear another word of it. When we go back to Camelot, you will see.”

“I guess we-  _ wait _ .  _ We _ ?”

“Oh.” Merlin stammers. “Did I forget to mention that part?”

“You’re coming with me?”

“I was technically already headed that way before I saw you, but yes, I  _ suppose _ you can say I’m coming with you.”

Lance’s grin is as blinding as ever when he orders them another round from the barkeep, intent on celebrating the good news.

* * *

Coming up to the gates of the city is an experience that Merlin doesn’t think he’ll ever forget. He’s made the trip to and from the gates many times, but this time feels like he’s truly coming home. He’s missed Camelot, truly missed it. He and Lance ride up to and past the guards, nodding to them as they go along.

Merlin has managed to procure a shop from an old healer that resided in the outer town of Camelot. He figures that he will move into the room at the back of the shop and open his own apothecary. Much of the things he has learned from Gaius will come in handy, plus a few of the potions and enchantments that he has learned during his stay with the Druids.

At the turn off to the castle, Lancelot bids Merlin a farewell, promising to come visit as soon as they are both settled in. Merlin continues to head towards the markets. It’s risky, he knows, to be out and about in broad daylight where anyone can see him. He also knows that Arthur is prone to wandering around in the markets during the day while checking in on his subjects and making sure everything is okay in his kingdom.

He makes it to his new shop without incident and tethers his horse to the post outside. There’s a stable of sorts out behind the building but he still has yet to set up everything, so for now the horse will stay out front.

The door opens to a decent-sized room, filled floor to ceiling with shelves that Merlin will soon fill with healing herbs and potions.

He’s suddenly filled with a rush of satisfaction and contentment while looking at his new home. He knows that his life may never be what it used to, but he’s back in Camelot and doing something he loves. Helping people, especially those who may not be able to afford care given by another physician, is never a way of life he'll regret.

Merlin walks farther into the building, towards the room that he will be living in. He sets down his rucksack and surveys the room; there’s a bed in the far corner and a bookshelf beside it. A trunk for the rest of his belongings sits at the foot of the bed. Merlin only has a few meagre possessions, but he knows he’ll probably acquire a few more over time. Besides, it’s best to not keep much if he’s going to have to leave in a hurry again.

He sighs and goes back out to the front of his shop, grabbing the rest of his belongings to settle in for the evening.

As he’s barring the door that night he steps out onto the street and looks up at the dark outline of the castle on the crest of the hill. The stars appear behind it and the moon shines brightly as Merlin takes in the castle and the night sky, and all the while he wonders if Arthur is doing the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, follow us on tumblr !!


	7. holding on to hope that you'll come back (when you find some peace)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry the chapter is so late!! it's been........ a rough time lately with everything going on but !!! it's here now!

It doesn’t even take a week before Gwen finds out that Merlin is back and visits him.

Actually it takes less than three days, and only that long because Gwen couldn’t find the time to slip away for long enough without somebody coming to find her. 

But Merlin can’t be annoyed or angry. First of all, technically Gwen wasn’t even supposed to know that he was back in the first place, and secondly, when he sees her he’s never seen her smile so wide or her eyes so happy.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why, and the culprit stands next to her sheepishly. 

“Gwen!” 

“Merlin!” 

They hug tightly as Lance watches on happily, and Merlin already knows that all of his warnings and chastisements will fall on deaf ears. Lance looks far too proud of himself, and nothing Merlin says will be able to convince him he made a mistake by doing the one thing Merlin told him not to. 

Not that Merlin can blame his friend. To be honest he was getting close to cracking and telling somebody else he is back home too, just to see their faces and have some company. Lance is great and everything, but he can only spend so much time with Merlin without making others suspicious.

Lance raises an eyebrow at him as he and Gwen finally part, and Merlin sighs through his put upon scowl. “Alright, fine, I’m not mad.”

The knight's grin is beaming and he looks far too happy with himself. “I knew it.” 

“Mad? If anyone should be mad, it’s me!” Gwen wacks both of them on the arm, making Merlin wince. He's old now, at least physically, and everyday bumps aren’t as easy to shrug off. “You thought you could just come back to Camelot without telling me? What on earth were you thinking, Merlin?”

“Obviously I wasn’t,” he mutters and Gwen nods.

“That’s right you weren’t. I  _ can _ help you know.” She finally blinks and gives him a once over. “Starting with your clothes, Merlin, what in gods’ name are you wearing? Why so much  _ red _ ?”

“It was the only thing that seemed appropriate!” Merlin splutters.

She sighs. “Just because Gaius wears robes wherever he goes doesn’t mean that all men his age are confined to them. Believe me there’s more options out there.” She looks him over again. “Which leads me to… this.” She gestures to him. “An old man, Merlin? Really?”

“Well what would you have done?” He protests. This wasn’t the first thing he’d expected her to talk about and he’s a bit startled. “It’s not like I can just stroll back here looking like myself, is it? I’d be in the dungeons faster than you can say ‘Merlin’s home’.” 

“I don’t know if that’s true,” Gwen says after a beat and sharing a loaded look with Lance. “But yes alright, I suppose you’re right. This disguise is better than nothing.”

“Two minutes in and she’s already insulting my choices, thanks Lance.” Merlin huffs and Lance grins even wider.

“Someone’s got to, and you wouldn’t hear it from me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Merlin rolls his eyes and takes Gwen in.

She looks well. Healthy. Her skin is glowing, her hair is a bit longer, and the pure happiness that is obvious in every twitch of her lips and bounce in her step makes Merlin feel a bit choked up. 

Luckily Gwen has his back there as well, just like she always does, because she pulls him back into another crushing hug, giving him time to adjust to the fact that she is really  _ here _ . “Oh Merlin, I’m so glad you’re home. We’ve all missed you so much.”

He ignores his first response to that- disbelief, because he knows when she says  _ we  _ she definitely didn’t mean  _ Arthur-  _ and instead hugs her tightly back. “I’ve missed you too, Gwen. It was lonely without you.”

Lance frowns. “Should I be offended at that?”

“Oh hush you!” Gwen reaches over to swat him on the shoulder again and Merlin is at an angle that let him see how her hand lingers a bit, how Lance reaches up to catch it in his own and bring it to his lips in a quiet kiss. 

He pulls away again, emotions under control enough for him to resort to teasing them. “Oh, so when did that happen?”

“What?” Lance asks innocently, dropping Gwen’s hand like it's fire, but Merlin doesn't buy it for a second.

He crooks an old wrinkled finger at them both. “You two! I’m not blind you know, no matter how old these eyes are supposed to be.”

“Could have fooled me there,” Lance replies and Merlin scowls before turning his attention on Gwen, hoping for a reasonable answer.

She's blushing and looking at Lance shyly before she finally meets Merlin’s eyes. 

“Oh, alright.” She gives in with a smile. “It’s still new, so don’t make a huge fuss-”

“Who, me?”

“-but, well. When Arthur allowed Lance back it was obvious neither of us had forgotten each other. And it seemed foolish, really, to waste any more time when we’d been apart so long…”

“Ah.” Merlin can just picture it, the two of them seeing one another after months of being apart, of being forced apart by things outside of their control. He can easily imagine one of them just throwing their hands up and marching over to make it clear that there was something between them, something that neither of them could deny anymore and it was doing nothing but hurting them both to stay apart-

He stops his thoughts in their tracks, suddenly realizing he isn’t entirely thinking about Gwen and Lance anymore.

But he isn’t ready to talk about Arthur yet. He knows they will, because they would have to, of course, there is no way they couldn’t mention him and everything that has happened, but not yet.

“That’s brilliant.” He says belatedly into the silence, hoping his smile looks as sincere as he feels. He really is happy for them, even if it is mixed with confusion, because Merlin remembers Gwen and Arthur being on track for… something. But Gwen had said Arthur was the one who brought Lance back, and Lance had told him Arthur’s letter said they were no longer courting. “Really brilliant. I’m so happy for you two.”

“Thank you.” She reaches out to squeeze his hand while Lance claps his shoulder. 

“Right, I should go, the others will be wondering where I am.” The knight says “But I’ll be back later. Gwen and I have said we’re having a night for ourselves, so we shouldn’t have anyone trying to reach us, which means we’ll have all evening to spend with you, Merlin-”

“If it’s not too much trouble!” Gwen says hurriedly. “We can bring the food for dinner, and-”

“No trouble at all.” Merlin reassures. “Though don’t feel like you need to waste one of your nights alone with me, really, if you have something planned-”

“This is what we have planned.” Gwen interrupts determinedly while Lance nods. “You’re my best friend and I haven’t seen you in ages. We’re spending the day together and Lance will join us afterward.”

Merlin’s heart feels so big it could burst. “Alright,” he answers softly before tacking on, “thanks.”

Lance waves a last goodbye, shares a look with Gwen and then leaves them alone. Gwen and Merlin’s gazes meet one more time and once more their lips stretch into wide grins and they hug before Merlin leads her to sit down while he makes tea.

“Do you have to look like that now?” Gwen asks him eventually. “Even alone in your house? Can’t you just...” She waves a hand at him. “Be yourself?”

He shrugs “It’s just… safer. If anybody who knows me barged in like you two did,” he shoots her a look and she has the decency to look sheepish, “then I’d be done for, wouldn’t I?”

“I suppose.” She agrees. “But outside of the castle-”

“I did rounds with Gaius throughout the lower town at least once a week, Gwen, to give everyone their potions, to buy herbs from the markets.” Merlin reminds her. “Believe me, someone would recognize me. It just takes one person.”

“Oh, Merlin.” She sounds so sad. “You’ve been so careful this entire time, haven’t you? You’re used to things like this, the measures you have to take.”

He shrugs again and turns back to the tea even though it's done and he just has to bring it over. It’s true that he’s done things he never would have known himself capable of, all to keep his secret safe. Honestly compared to some of them, pretending to be an old man can even be seen as enjoyable.

But he pushes those thoughts from his mind and forces a smile. Gwen is here, his friend, and even though this might not be the life he’d dreamed of, it is more than he’d thought he could have a week ago.

“Enough about all that.” He says and hands her a cup before setting the kettle down on the table. “How are you? I want to know everything that’s happened since I’ve been away. Things are-” He catches the look on her face and he grows more serious. “Things are so different.”

She nods twirling the cup of tea in her fingers anxiously. 

Merlin watches her. “I heard about Morgana.”

He won't tell her the rest. There is still a chance for Mogana, Merlin believes that, and so he won't give up on her. She is just scared and alone, and he knows better than anybody what that felt like. There has to still be hope, because the woman he’d met when he’d arrived in Camelot… that didn’t sound like the woman people were whispering about in the countryside.

It wasn’t the woman who had contacted him to recruit him in the fight against Camelot.

Gwen’s look is sharp. “What did you hear?”

Merlin shrugs “Gossip spreads. It spread far enough from Camelot to reach me. The king’s ward, revealing she had magic and then vanishing. It’s a big story. Some people think Uther killed her. Others say she tried to kill him before leaving. As I got closer to here the people only said she left that same night after disowning Uther and Arthur because they didn’t accept her.” He finally looks down, ignoring the hollowness in his chest. “The only thing they all agree on is that she left.”

Gwen nods, her face crumpling as tears fill her eyes. “Oh, Merlin, you have no idea- it was awful. Since she left everyone- we’ve all just been reeling.” 

Merlin reaches out and takes her hand. 

She smiles a watery smile in thanks. “Arthur’s the only reason I’m still working in the castle. He finds things for me to do, sometimes I think I’ve taken on a few of your old duties- oh!” She slaps her hands over her mouth as Merlin pulls his back to fall in his lap. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine, Gwen.” Merlin reassures her even though the knowledge does hurt a bit. “I think it’s Arthur’s new manservant you should worry about instead of me, yeah? Take care not to step on his toes.”

She blinks. “But don’t you know? Arthur never got a new servant.”

Merlin’s eyes snap to hers. “What?”

“It’s just been him since you left.” Gwen says simply. “He kept rejecting all the people Uther suggested and they had a huge row about it, not even a month after you’d gone. They didn’t talk for weeks after that.”

Merlin feels like all the air has left his lungs. “You’re serious?”

“Of course I am.” She watches him closely. “He’s used George- remember him?- for a few things, but mostly he just has the kitchen send up whoever with his meals and arranges the rest with Mrs. Carlisle.” She finishes, referring to the woman in charge of the castle’s household staff. “He won’t hear anything about a new servant, no matter who tries to talk to him.”

“Oh.” Is all Merlin could say. 

She's still watching him. “Are you really not going to let him know you’re back?”

Merlin’s heart tightens painfully. “You know I can’t, Gwen. He’d have me killed.”

“Oh Merlin.” Gwen sounds pitying for the first time. “He wouldn’t. Arthur could never do that to you.”

“Sure.” He scoffs, remembering the way Arthur’s sword had trembled as it pointed at his chest. “I don’t know what stopped him the first time, but if he knew I was back here breaking his exile and still practicing magic, that would be a bit much for him to forgive, wouldn’t it.”

She shakes her head. “You’re wrong.” She holds up a hand and speaks over him when he opens his mouth. “But I know I won’t be able to convince you. So I won’t try.”

“You can’t tell him I’m here, Gwen.” Merlin says urgently, gripping her wrist as he leans forward. “Please, you have to promise-”

Maybe it is the panic in his eyes and voice but something makes her look at him with concern. “Okay, okay, I promise I won’t.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

She looks at him knowingly. “But  _ you  _ should tell him. He’d want to know.”

Merlin shakes his head. “He has enough to worry about right now without me adding to it all.”

Gwen’s face darkens. “You’ve heard that too?”

Merlin nods. “Morgause is meant to be trying to ally with Cenred. When I stopped at Ealdor before coming back it was all anyone could talk about, how he might risk their lives to invade Camelot now that Uther is gone and Arthur’s rule is so new.”

They all know what that means. A new ruler is an untested ruler, one that enemies can try to take advantage of. 

The three of them will do their best to protect Arthur from that. Any way they have to.

Gwen nods, looking worried. “Arthur’s been sending Cenred letters but Lance says they return still sealed. We don’t know what’s going on.”

Merlin remembers how well Arthur liked that. Not knowing and being forced to do nothing but wait was enough to drive him mental at the best of times- of which these certainly aren’t.

“I might be able to help.” He offers. “More than the shields I put on the city, more than me being here to help defend, maybe I could scry them and see. Or at least track them to know their movements.”

Gwen’s eyes widen. “You can do that?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh Merlin, that would be brilliant, you’d be so helpful…” She trails off as the thought strikes. “Could you find Morgana like that too?”

Merlin swallows. “Probably.”

Their eyes hold, Gwen searching his, before she looks away. “We couldn’t tell Arthur how we found out though, not if we need to keep your identity safe.”

Merlin nods, tongue heavy.

“Well, we’d figure something out.” Gwen waves the problem away for now. “It would be worth it to know, definitely.”

Merlin agrees. “You know I’ll do all I can.”

She takes his hand again appreciatively. “I know.”

Merlin grins, trying to get rid of the heaviness between them. “Now come on, tell me about you and Lance.” He tries to be a bit tactful when he adds, “when I left I thought you’d moved on to be with Arthur.”

She hears the question there and he doesn’t like how knowingly she looks at him. “Like I need to tell you what happened there.”

That makes Merlin frown. “Wait, what? What do you mean?”

Gwen’s eyes furrow in confusion. “Well, when you left that ruined any chances of me and Arthur.”

“I didn’t leave, Arthur exiled me.” Merlin corrects. “And what are you talking about? Why would that have anything to do with you two?”

She stares at him incredulously. “Come on, Merlin, don’t tease.”

“I’m not.” He answers. “Seriously Gwen, I have no idea what you mean.”

When her expression finally clears she shakes her head and mutters something under her breath about  _ slow, emotionally-stunted boys’ _ which only makes Merlin more confused. 

“I’ll just say that when you were gone the idea of romance with anybody else was the last thing Arthur was thinking about.”

Merlin frowns at her wording but Gwen speaks over him before he can ask her to clarify.

“He shut everyone out Merlin. Totally shut down, for months. It was… scary, really. And we were all worried, we tried to talk to him about it, about anything, but he wouldn’t let us. He couldn’t even bear to hear your name without flinching.”

Merlin sits back.

“He wouldn’t talk to me and eventually I gave up trying. Then when I found out that he’d made you leave that ruined the last hope for anything between us because- well. I was angry at him, there’s no way we could have been together with me knowing what he did. Especially when he wouldn’t explain why.”

“Oh Gwen,” Merlin feels miserable and guilt churns in his stomach. “You didn’t have to do that for me, really, I’m so sorry. The last thing I wanted was to come between you two.”

For some reason that makes Gwen’s lips twitch but she doesn’t explain. Instead she shakes her head. “You didn’t Merlin, really. It was him. You weren’t around and suddenly the Arthur all of us knew was gone too. Without you he just… he went back to acting like the prince he’d been before, remember? Keeping everyone at arm's length. So the rest of us were left to do the best we could.”

It hurts him to hear, and now they’ve finally reached the point in the conversation where Merlin can no longer resist asking. “And? How is he now?”

“He’s different.” She finally says. “He’s eating and I think he’s sleeping better. The kingdom seems to be doing better than ever now that he’s in charge, even with everything that’s happened. None of us are as worried about him anymore.”

Anymore. Merlin bites the inside of his cheek, wondering what that meant. What he’d missed and what she was keeping from him.

But he's too scared to ask. And to be honest she isn’t the person he wants to get the answers from.

“So he’s alright? He’s happy?”

Gwen hesitates again. “He’s fine. He’s not alone all the time these days, at least.”

Merlin sees the avoidance tactic for what it is and his concern grows. But whatever it is, Gwen obviously doesn’t think he needs to know. Maybe she thinks it's none of his business anymore.

She's probably right. 

“Enough about him though,” she says significantly. “What about you? Lance said you’ve been travelling all over the place! I want to hear everything, you know I’ve never been anywhere but here and Ealdor.”

Merlin accepts the subject change as best he can, returning her smile and taking a sip of his cold tea. With a faint spell he warms the cups again and gets settled, telling Gwen all about Cenred’s kingdom, and Rowanhurst. Her eyes widen, and she gasps at all the right parts, and by the time Lance comes back it's time to start cooking them all dinner. Merlin tries not to show off by using magic to do it but Gwen is beaming all the while and watching with interest and that makes it hard for him not to take some pride in it.

The rest of the evening goes quickly- too quickly for Merlin’s taste- but they all lau and talked until well past midnight, covering everything from how Gaius was, to Gwaine’s training. Lance and Gwen have a bet on whether or not Gwaine and Perceval will stop pretending they aren’t going to get together.

Merlin can see it. He agrees with Lance that it will happen, but he agrees with Gwen that it wouldn’t be for a while because Gwaine is far too big a flirt.

Eventually it's time for them to go, as sad as it makes them. As they're leaving Lance catches Merlin’s sleeve. 

“I know you don’t want us to tell Arthur,” he begins, face serious. “But what about Gaius? Or Gwaine? They both worry about you, you know, and Gwaine pestered me for ages when I came back and said I’d seen you. You made quite an impression on him.”

“It’s not safe, Lance.” He says. 

It is more than that too, but he isn’t willing to say it, even to Gwen or Lance. The more people who knows he is back means more people betraying Arthur and keeping this secret from him. It means more of a chance that Arthur will somehow find out, somehow learn about Merlin being back from somebody other than Merlin himself, and he doesn't want to risk the others for that. 

He doesn’t want to hurt Arthur that way either.

“Gaius won’t tell,” Gwen says softly. “And Gwaine just cares about seeing you again and making sure you’re safe, he’d never do anything to risk that.”

“Besides,” Lance forces a smile. “He’s getting suspicious of me, always asking where I sneak off to and how I know so much about what you’re doing. I wouldn’t be surprised if he followed me here one of these days.”

Guilt gnaws at Merlin’s stomach and he finally sighs. "Fine, if you think it’s for the best. But just them!”

“Of course.” Lance nods and gives him a hug, Gwen doing the same, before they step out onto the dark street with Merlin waving at them until they disappear.

There’d been no other mention of Arthur or news of Morgana, but even the little they’d said was enough to occupy Merlin for hours. He falls asleep with thoughts and worries of them swirling around in his head incessantly, all the while wondering why he feels lonelier now than he had those first few nights back in Ealdor.

* * *

It’s only a few weeks after he arrives back in Camelot that Lance tells Arthur he can get information on Morgana and Cenred, and the returning threat of Morgause. Arthur doesn’t even let his knight finish his sentence before interrupting.

“And how would you get this information?”

Lance’s face closes off but Arthur sees the resignation in his eyes. As if he already knows this conversation is doomed and the answer he gives will only certify that. “From a sorcerer, sire.”

Arthur gnashes his teeth, turning away towards one of the large windows in the throne room where they were speaking alone. Since he’s been made king there have been no executions of magic users unless they committed a serious crime. The sudden change is something that both the people and knights of Camelot have realized early on. In the first few weeks of his rule Arthur had repeatedly waved away Leon and Percival’s reports of sorcerers within the city’s walls, refusing to hear them in an attempt to feign ignorance. But he could only keep that up so long and so, eventually, he had made it clear that he wouldn’t pursue the leads further. He’d told his knights about the first bill he’d drawn up as king, a proposal to change the laws against magic here in Camelot.

It is taking a while to get approved by his council. Partly because Arthur wants them to scrutinize it thoroughly and find any weak spots or things he’s missed. Loopholes, rules that are too lax, rules that are too strict, anything that seems like it might cause problems in the future.

And they’d found problems. A lot of them. 

If it isn’t Geoffrey nit-picking every little thing and reminding Arthur that his father would be rolling over in his grave to see the proposal, it's Leon’s subtle looks, wondering where this has come from and why? Or Gwaine waving his hand and being too blase about the entire thing. There is Gaius, whose eyebrow was working so hard it had nearly disappeared into his hairline one day, and Lance who is the only one taking the entire thing seriously and with an open mind. However when even he came to Arthur with a list ten items long, of small wordings or issues to fix, it was enough to make Arthur frustrated enough to wonder why he was doing this at all.

Those doubts only ever last a second. Arthur knows why he's doing it, of course. With everything that had happened the day Merlin told him the truth, and everything that has happened since, it's clear this needs to be done. For Morgana and everyone like her. Because they deserve better. 

Because Arthur doesn't think he will ever forget the hurt and betrayed look on Merlin’s face when Arthur had made him leave and said it wasn’t safe for him here due to Uther's magic law.

If only this blasted  _ war  _ hadn’t come along. As if Arthur doesn't have enough to deal with right now, Cenred is proving just how juvenile he really is by kicking up a fuss for reasons Arthur can't figure out.

It Is because of the war and Morgana and everything else that came with being king- and really, Arthur had never realized his father’s job was this difficult, he’d always thought his father spent a couple hours a week in council meetings and spent the rest of his time lounging on his throne or eating dinner alone- that Arthur’s magic law has been shelved for the time being. They have bigger things to deal with, even though the magic bill is always at the back of his mind, a constant reminder to Arthur of what he will deal with first, as soon as Cenred and the unrest outside of Camelot is dealt with. But for now, Uther’s laws still stand, even if Arthur hasn’t actually been enforcing them.

The one sorcerer he had executed had attacked the castle guards and tried to make it into Arthur’s chambers in a murder attempt. Arthur had ordered him to be hanged. 

Camelot would no longer burn criminals at the pyre. Not while he reigned. 

After a few months the knights and the people have learned. Any reports of magic users will be glossed over and ignored, unless the sorcerer proved a real threat to society. Arthur may not have officially changed the laws yet but he is no longer persecuting people just because they have magic and use it to heal an injury or amuse a child in the town square. 

However, he thinks as he stares out of the window at the setting sun, just because he will no longer kill magic users does not mean he will trust them to find Morgana and have any part in defending Camelot. He can't. It wasn’t just because of their magic, but because it would be a stranger. Arthur isn’t keen to base any important decisions on the word of someone he doesn’t know and has no reason to trust.

And it is a little bit because of their magic.

Not only is he still wary of warlocks and witches- he's trying, he really is, but years of conditioning don’t disappear easily- but it would also feel like too much of a betrayal. It would feel wrong, Arthur thinks, to have the first sorcerer that he knowingly works alongside be anyone but Merlin.

He is working (at Gwen’s encouragement) to change the law on magic. And once he does that he is determined that he will ride out himself and go find Merlin, wherever he might be. Arthur doesn't care how far he has to go or how long it will take, he will go in person. Merlin deserves that much. 

But this, Lance suggesting they rely on a sorcerer for information about their enemies… Arthur can't do it.

“How?”

“There’s a spell. He called it scrying, sire.”

Arthur purses his lips. “And how do you know this sorcerer is reliable?”

Lance hesitates and Arthur hears him shift behind him. Is he nervous? 

What for?

“I have known him a long time,” Lance says slowly. “And he’s never let me down before.”

That makes Arthur whirl around and look at him with his full attention. Could it- no, it was impossible. Surely Lance would never do such a thing, and Arthur doubts Merlin would ever want to willingly return to Camelot without Arthur getting down on his knees and begging him to first. And even then he doubted Merlin would accept

It couldn’t be Merlin. 

Still a small and foolish hope flares in him. How many sorcerers is Lance likely to know? And he had said the one he spoke of now was a man…

No. He shakes his head. Hope like that is for when he is alone late at night and allowed to entertain silly fantasies like a young girl. He is king now and it was time he started acting like it without letting his own emotions get involved. 

He hears the thought in his father’s voice and tries to pretend it is a good thing.

“No, Lance. We will find another way.”

“But sire-”

“I said no.” Arthur replies sharply. “That will be all.”

Though Lance lingers and opens his mouth as if he is about to say something he closes it again at Arthur’s look. With a shallow bow he leaves and Arthur returns to looking out the window.

Of course that can't be the end of it. 

Gwen accosts him next, cornering him alone in the council room with an expectant look on her face.

A small part of Arthur is impressed. It was only the next day. Then again, Lance and Gwen are spending any spare moment they have with each other somewhere in town. Obviously they would tell each other these sorts of things.

“Guinevere,” he says casually as he walks along the balcony of the castle courtyard. “To what do I owe-”

“Oh, come off it Arthur,” she says in exasperation as she falls into step beside him. Leon and the other guard behind him allow it without any concerns. “Lance told me you refuse to see the sorcerer.”

Arthur shouldn’t be surprised. If he’d learned anything these past few years it is that Gwen is resilient when she wants to be. 

“Please, Gwen, don’t start. I’ve already told Lance-”

“Why not?” She asks in exasperation. “Arthur, come on! This is ridiculous.”

Arthur clenches his jaw. “I will not trust someone I don’t know. Not when it comes to this.”

He’s not lying. He’s just not telling her the whole truth. It’s selfish, and deep down he knows he’s going to end up giving in to them because this makes sense and he does want to find Morgana as soon as possible to make things right with her. So unless they come up with any other ideas soon, Arthur’s almost definitely going to acquiesce eventually.

But if he asks after Morgana and it works then Arthur knows it’s impossible that he won’t ask about Merlin too. 

“Then don’t,” Gwen replies after a moment. “Trust Lance and I. We know we can trust him.”

“Who is he, anyway? What’s his name? Surely I would have heard of him before?” Arthur glances at her to see her lips press firmly together and his suspicions from before return, though he tries to ignore it. 

It’s not Merlin, you fool. He tells himself. Merlin is probably still traveling the land, learning and making friends wherever he went, while Arthur lived through the worst months of his life without him. 

The amount of times he’s wished for Merlin to be by his side back when he’d fought with Morgana, lost her, and then lost his father… they are impossible to count. Sometimes after Arthur had visited his father in his sickbed he’d left the room and looked around, hoping to see Merlin outside waiting for him to help him not feel so alone.

He thought he’d been lonely after sending Merlin away. Now Arthur mocks himself for his own foolishness. True loneliness had come when Morgana and Uther were both gone and there was nobody else in the castle close enough to Arthur’s rank to spend most of his time with. The knights can only handle so much training, and they have duties on top of that. Arthur can't expect them to waste hours with him while he signs documents at his desk, or listens to petitioners, or read reports. 

What Arthur wants is for somebody to come along and fill the roles of manservant, advisor and wife in one. And the chances of that has gone from small to practically non-existent since he’d sent the perfect candidate away. 

Arthur is always alone now at dinner unless he specially invites Gwen or one of the knights. Any visiting dignitaries and monarchs from other lands who had come for his coronation had barely stayed over the week, and he’d barely taken advantage of the company at the time. He’d been too busy dealing with the grief of losing his father and the shock of Morgana leaving after they’d learned she was his sister; which Arthur still hadn’t told anybody. 

Perhaps he should have told Gwen, she would likely understand what he was feeling best since she’d been closer to Morgana than anyone. Still, whenever he looks at Gwen’s face he finds himself unable to form the words.

Instead he does his best to escape. “I’m sorry, Guinevere, but I have a meeting to get to. I’ll think it over, alright?”

Without waiting for an answer he strides ahead and goes to meet with the visiting dignitary from Olaf’s kingdom, feeling guilty all the while.

He makes it a week before it becomes clear to Gwen and Lancelot that he’s not really considering it. That’s when Gwaine appears.

“So.” 

Gwaine’s feet are up on Arthur’s desk in his room when he comes in from patrolling the ramparts. Arthur makes a note to see who was meant to be guarding his chambers that evening and have them moved to the armoury or something. Gwaine has far too much pull with the castle staff, of all ranks too, apparently, if the gossip from the kitchen and maid staff to the stable boys is to be believed. It doesn't matter if the rumours were only minutes old, Gwaine is always one of the first to hear about it from one of his… sources.

Arthur doesn’t care what Gwaine does in his free time as long as it doesn’t interfere with his duties as a knight of Camelot. Though he has noticed that Gwaine’s exploits seem to have slowed dramatically in the past month or so. 

Since the man had begun to spend more time with Percival, actually. 

It's something to keep in mind.

The fact remains, however, that Gwaine has informants all over the castle and beyond, it seems. So Arthur shouldn’t be surprised at the next words from his friend's mouth.

“Heard that Lance and Gwen want you to go see the sorcerer in town.”

Arthur rubs his temples, already feeling the beginning of a headache coming on. Gwaine is definitely the last person he wants to talk to about this. Mostly because Gwaine came from outside of Camelot and seems completely alright with magic. In fact, he is one of Arthur’s biggest supporters when it came to his new magic law, and while Uther had been alive Gwaine had made it no secret to Arthur that he strongly disagreed with his father’s views.

Arthur has always wondered how much of Gwaine’s feelings about magic came from his acquaintance with Merlin. He’s always been too much of a coward to ask.

The truth is that Arthur sees Gwaine’s attitude towards magic and the people who use it and he wishes that it was him who held those strong opinions. He wants to be a protector of magic and the rights of its people, and he wants it badly. Everyday he feels like he is letting Merlin down when he fails to reprimand an offhand comment from one of the knights about sorcery, or whenever he glances at his bedside table and sees his written out magic proposal that is still unsigned because of the problems it has.

The trouble is that he doesn’t have anybody with magic at his side to help him, Arthur had realized late last night. He needs a witch or wizard’s input, especially since this law would be for them. They would know what to limit or ban, what to encourage and allow, and Arthur doesn't have a clue. Is there dark and light magic? Or is every spell useful? Does it just depend on who uses it and for what purpose? 

He doesn't know where to draw the lines, and years ago he would have asked Merlin for his advice- and gotten it too- but that option is long gone now. 

There is Gaius of course, Arthur knows. And he takes Gaius’ suggestions on the bill seriously. But Gaius is getting old in years and he hasn’t practiced magic in years. As far as Arthur knows, he’s never been particularly deep in the Old Ways, though he is knowledgeable in them and the theory. 

No, as far as Arthur can make out, Merlin is the most powerful magic user he’s ever met, and would probably have been perfect for helping him navigate something like this. 

But Merlin is gone and this is just another thing that Arthur will have to work out alone before Merlin would feel comfortable or safe enough to come back. To come home.

If he ever does.

He's getting distracted. Arthur wiggles his fingers, which are cold from being out so late in the cool fall air, and moves closer to the fire before beginning to remove his gloves and cloak. “What? And get your feet off my desk, Gwaine. ”

“I said,” Gwaine repeats without moving his feet an inch, “I heard you’re refusing to see the sorcerer in town.”

Arthur sighs, draping his cloak along the back of the nearest chair to the fire, hoping it will warm it faster. “Not you too. Does everybody in the blasted castle know about this sorcerer except me?”

“Possibly,” Gwaine says easily. “He’s been around a while. Practically an old friend, you know, though he’s grown this ridiculous beard-”

“Gwaine. Your point?”

“Right.” Gwaine finally sits up straight, his boots falling to the floor with a soft thump. “Why won’t you see him?”

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to tell me I’m an idiot and list why I should first?”

Gwaine shrugs. “You’ll have your reasons, I’m sure. Gwen and Lance are allowing their feelings to cloud their judgement, they forget you don’t know what they do.”

“What does that mean?”

“Look, they know this guy, of course they trust him.” Gwaine says patiently, looking more serious than Arthur ever remembers him since the first day they’d met. “You don’t. Gwen and Lance are forgetting that.”

Arthur is surprised at how relieved he is to hear somebody else say it out loud, to have somebody understand, at least a bit, where he is coming from.

“It’s not just that though,” he admits, dragging a chair around his bed to sit on the other side of his desk and be closer to Gwaine. “It’s the whole idea of using magic, of relying on it.” He hesitates, allowing his well-worn mask to slip a bit and show some of his vulnerability. “I don’t understand it, Gwaine. I made Merlin leave before he could teach me anything, and I can’t change that now, but there’s no time for me to wait for him to come back and help me. And I can’t bring myself to trust anybody else.”

He scrubs his hands over his face tiredly and then lets it rest there, fingers splayed as he takes a deep breath and hides from Gwaine’s piercing stare. 

“There’s Gaius.”

“Even Gaius,” Arthur drops his hands and stares up at the ceiling instead. “He’s hidden things from me in the past. From my father. Not that I think he would with this it’s just…” He swallows, finding his courage. “I trusted Merlin more than anybody. And I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that he broke that trust even- even while being as honest as he could at the same time. And I’ve forgiven him for that.”

He loses himself in thought until Gwaine prompted him. “But?”

“But I can’t be hurt like that again.” He is still staring at the roof, watching the fire’s flickering flames cast moving shadows on it. “Merlin has my trust, always, but I can’t rely on someone and have them let me down like that again. I can’t, Gwaine, do you understand?”

Because anybody else wouldn’t be the same as Merlin. Arthur shares the blame for the way things had ended between them. He had sent Merlin away and ruined their friendship before fully hearing him out. Gaius had been right, all those months ago, when he’d pointed out that Merlin had told him the truth. Merlin had put Arthur first, before his own safety, and now the guilty one between them was Arthur for sending him away without giving them a chance to get over it and move on together.

Arthur takes responsibility for that, and he lives with the shame and the guilt that come with it. 

He doesn’t blame Merlin. But he would blame anybody else for lying to him and wreaking damage on Camelot.

He doesn't know if he was making sense. It is entirely possible Gwaine has no idea what he is talking about, especially if he doesn't know about Merlin’s magic. Maybe Arthur’s reluctance to deal with another sorcerer is stupid, and childish and cowardly.

And yet… he can't get the comparisons out of his mind. 

Gods he wishes Merlin was here. 

He swallows and finally looks at Gwaine. “I know you’re all trying to help, and I do trust your judgement. But if the information the sorcerer gave us turned out to be wrong, or some sort of trick that we fell for… I’d never forgive myself Gwaine, do you understand?”

Frustration crosses his friend’s face. “Can’t you just hear him out and decide for yourself after?”

Arthur shakes his head. “It would be easier if I just didn’t meet with him at all.”

It was a while before Gwaine nods. “Fine. I still think you’re making a mistake but I suppose I can see where you’re coming from. A bit.”

Arthur nods as Gwaine finally gets up and moves to leave. He stops though, right beside Arthur, and clasps his shoulder tightly, causing Arthur to look up at him.

“Don’t you think it would be better for Merlin to hear that you’re trusting magic users instead of shunning them?”

Arthur swallows, never looking away, though he desperately wants to. “I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

It’s not like Merlin is around to ask.

A complicated expression crosses Gwaine’s face before he looks away and keeps walking. “I guess not.”

The door closes softly behind him.

* * *

After he refuses Gwaine the three of them pull in the big guns.

Gaius.

“Arthur,” Lance catches his arm as soon as Arthur steps out of his room the next morning, face looking innocent. “It’s Gaius, he needs to see you.”

A cold shiver runs down Arthur’s spine and he immediately changes course from heading to the practice field to follow Lance to the physician’s chambers. “Why? Is he alright?”

“He’s fine,” Lance reassures, making Arthur let out a long and relieved breath. Gods, Merlin would never have forgiven him if anything happened to Gaius. “He just wants to talk to you.”

It doesn’t take them long to get there, which is no surprise at the pace Lance is leading him by, and they reach Gaius’ door as Arthur shoots Lance a suspicious look. “Why-”

The door opens to reveal Gwen, Gwaine and Gaius already in the room. Gwen looks determined and Gwaine looks bored. Out of them all, only Gaius has the decency to pretend this ambush is excessive, because he potters about the room looking into vials and checking labels while apparently doing inventory to avoid seeing Arthur’s expression go from questioning to irritated. 

“Gaius,” Arthur focuses on him, ignoring the others, and asks the question even though he’s sure he already knows the answer. “What’s this?”

Gaius spares him a glance. “I’m supposed to convince you to go and visit the sorcerer.”

Gwaine tosses a small sack of some grain or other back and forth in his hands while leaning against the table. Gwen stands straight and stares at Arthur determinedly.

But it’s Lance who speaks. “Arthur, this is madness. This man can help you, can help us all, by giving an idea of what’s coming-”

“He could also be a spy sent by Cenred to trick us,” Arthur interrupts. “I’ve already told you all, when it comes to matters of state I’m not willing to trust a stranger.”

Gaius purses his lips. “Even when all of us vouch for him?”

The king feels his expression turn to one of regret. “Even then. I’m sorry Gaius but-”

“You’re just being stubborn!” Lance sasy, taking hold of Arthur’s arm. “If he wasn’t a sorcerer I bet you wouldn’t hesitate to take his word at face value. Just because of everything that’s happened with-”

“Lance!” The others all shout it at once and Arthur watches his old friend intensely, hearing the name he doesn’t say.

Lance’s jaw clenches. “Isn’t he proof enough that you can trust them? Everything he did in your service? The people with magic, Arthur, they’re not all out to get you. They can help.”

Arthur will give Lance the benefit of the doubt. He hadn’t been here when Merlin had been exiled, or in the months after. He’s only been back for a few weeks now and doesn't know, as the others do, why he can't speak about these things to Arthur. 

“Merlin is my friend,” Lancelot says slowly, his eyes never leaving Arthur’s. “I watched him do more for you than you’ll ever know, than any of us will. For you. To help you and the kingdom you love. Don’t throw all of his work away now because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared, Lance.” Arthur replies quietly, just as intensely. “I’m the king. I need to do what I think is right, and if you were my friend you would drop it.”

Lance’s face sets. “I am your friend. And so was Merlin. He wouldn’t back down if it was for your own good, even from you. So neither will we.”

Arthur jerks out of his friend's grip, feeling a flash of betrayal at his words. That was a low blow.

He looks away only to see Gwen and Gwaine watching him expectedly, no sign of regret on their face, setting his teeth on edge. Gwen looks grimly determined and Arthur wishes that all of his friends weren’t so damn stubborn.

So he settles his gaze on Gaius

“Arthur I don’t understand,” the old man says patiently. “You’ve never hesitated to do whatever you could for Camelot before. In fact I remember several times where you went against Uther’s exact wishes to do so. What’s stopping you now?”

“We don’t even know if this sorcerer’s scrying will work-”

“I have heard of the man. His magic is strong, so I see no reason why it shouldn’t.”

Arthur grit his teeth. “There is a chance Cenred will answer my last letter.”

“Arthur, you sent that letter over a week ago.” Lance says quietly. “We would have had a response by now if it was coming.”

Arthur ignores him. “I don’t think we need to involve outsiders in matters of state- especially when they’re as important as this-”

“Arthur.” Gaius interrupts him, and it is only because Arthur could count on one hand the number of times that has happened before that he falls silent to listen. “Even your father was willing to break his own laws and use magic when it benefitted him. This sorcerer could give you a tremendously important advantage.”

Oh yes, Arthur doesn’t need Gaius reminding him of that.

He glances back at the others before moving away to put some distance between him and them, gesturing for Gaius to follow. Arthur lowers his voice, speaking with his back to Lance, Gwen and Gwaine, hoping they aren’t close enough to overhear.

His guarded expression drops and he finally says what he’s been unwilling to this whole time. Even last night to Gwaine he hadn’t gone so far to actually lay the issue out bare.

“Gaius,” he is surprised when his voice cracks. 

It was all of the pressure he's been under these past weeks… Things are getting to him, even though he was usually so good at compartmentalizing. Right now it feels like everything is circling back to one source of hurt, over and over again.

"It would feel like I was betraying him all over again.”

Gaius’ eyes fill with sympathy. He doesn’t need to ask who Arthur is talking about. It's obvious to anybody who’s been around Arthur for the past two years.

“Oh, Arthur.” He takes one of Arthur’s hands to hold it in both of his. “What Merlin has always wanted, more than anything, is for you and Camelot to be safe. This sorcerer can help with that. This is the last thing Merlin would consider a betrayal.”

“But I didn’t trust  _ him _ ,” Arthur says quietly, looking down to avoid his gaze. “It would be like a slap in the face, wouldn’t it? As if I trusted any random stranger over the person who’d been by my side for years-”

“Not at all.” Gaius pats his hand kindly. “If you can’t do this for the others, or for me, then do it for Merlin, Arthur. I promise you it’s what he would want.” He seeks Arthur’s eyes. “And if that’s not enough then do it for your people. For Camelot.”

It's biased, Arthur knows, but ever since he sent Merlin away he hates to deny Gaius anything. And he finds he doesn’t have the strength to refuse him this, as much as it goes against his own inner loyalty to Merlin.

“Fine,” he agrees, watching Gaius but seeing the smiles and looks the others exchange in his peripheral vision. They’ve creeped closer without him noticing. “Fine. For Merlin and for Camelot. I’ll listen to what he has to say but I’m not promising anything more.”

“That’s enough.” Gaius says, and Arthur sees he means it too. For some reason Gaius is certain this magician will be able to persuade Arthur to listen to him. 

A treacherous part of Arthur hopes that it is actually true.

“Alright then.” He sighs and turns to the others. “You’ve got what you wanted. There’s no point waiting, is there? Let’s go.”

Three pairs of eyes widen.

“What- now?” Lance asks.

“Yes now.” Arthur raises an eyebrow. “I’m not about to invite him into the castle, am I? And I hardly think he’ll need a heads up to warn him that we’re coming and give him time to prepare any tricks or hide anything illegal.”

“Arthur are you sure that’s wise?” Gaius interjects. “I hardly think he’ll do anything here in the castle-”

“I’m not about to take that risk.” Arthur says. “Besides, we don’t have the tools he would need for this- this scrying, do we?”

“I believe all it requires is a bowl of water, or something of that sort, sire.”

Arthur blinks after an awkward pause. “Nevertheless. I will go myself. Gwaine, get Leon and Percy. Lance and Gwen come if you wish, the more witnesses the better. Gaius,” he turns back to the old man. “You know him too, don’t you?”

Gaius nods. “Yes, your majesty.”

“Would you want to come too?”

The physician hesitates, something like longing crossing his face, before he finally shakes his head. “No, thank you, sire. I should stay here and finish this.”

He gestures to the shelves of bottles beside them.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Gaius smiles reassuringly. “Don’t worry, you’ll be in good hands.”

Arthur isn’t sure why he's disappointed but he hides it. It would have been reassuring to have Gaius come, especially around another magic user. 

“Fine.” He says again and turns back to the others. “We leave as soon as everyone’s ready.”

Arthur leaves the room first. He needs to grab his cloak; apparently he was going to need it.

* * *

Lance bursts into Merlin’s home with his chest heaving, slamming the wooden door behind him and sagging back against it as if getting ready to keep out an angry horde.

Merlin jumps about a foot in the air. “Lance? What the  _ hell- _ ?”

“Arthur,” the knight gasps out between breaths, making Merlin’s heart stop. “He’s coming- coming here.”

Merlin feels lightheaded. Probably from lack of oxygen. Possibly from something else. He may have actually died on the spot and all that was left was the shape of his translucent ghost, frozen from shock. 

“We told him about the scrying and he’s given in. He’s on his way now to ask you to find Morgana and Cenred.”

Merlin’s heart kick started back up. “Oh.” He says weakly. “Great.”

“I ran ahead to- to warn you.” Lance finally straightens up, moving towards him. “Merlin, I don’t know if he’ll recognize you-”

Cold panic grips Merlin at the reminder of what this all means. Lance had recognized him right away. Gwen, Gwaine and Gaius had been told it was him before they’d arrived, and no one in town had made the connection between the new old man and the prince’s former manservant, but Arthur…

Merlin had spent more time with Arthur than anybody. If Lance had seen through his disguise…

“-but if he does I’ll be on your side, no matter what. You know that don’t you?”

“What?” Merlin snaps out of his thoughts and blinks quickly. “No, Lance, don’t you dare-”

“All of us, we’d all step in and explain everything, we’d say it’s our fault you’re back here, that we asked you to come-”

“ _ Lance _ !” Merlin says loudly. “It’s okay. Whatever happens… I’ll be fine, alright? I don’t want any of you getting in trouble just because I was too pig-headed to follow Arthur’s stupid rules. I mean it.” He raises a finger in what he hopes is a threatening manner, though judging by Lance’s eyes zeroing in on it with an unimpressed gaze he suspects he’s failed. “I’ll handle Arthur.”

He swallows. “Thanks for warning me.”

Lance gives him a knowing look. “You’ll be alright?”

He nods. “I’ll be alright. Now shoo! Maybe Arthur won’t notice-”

But just then voices drift in from outside. Gwaine’s laughter, far louder than normal, sounding faintly from down the street in an obvious warning.

“Go!” Merlin says to Lance and he nods every ounce of him determined as he hurriedly slips out of the house.

Right then, Merlin thinks as he magics the largest thing he has in the place (a heavy cauldron, hey, he never said he was above stereotypes) full of water absently, while feeling his face to make absolutely sure his beard and wrinkles are still there. 

This is it. He is going to see Arthur again.

By sheer force of will he manages to stave off his panic attack, sure that it will come later instead, and he faces the door as he hears murmurs from outside before three sharp raps sound on his door.

Merlin clears his throat, reminding himself that he is a sorcerer who can freeze time, and surely facing Arthur again is less daunting than that (it isn’t), before he opens his mouth to call them all inside.

* * *

They meet Lance outside the house where the sorcerer lives and Arthur doesn’t make any effort to soften his glare.

“The whole point of coming right away was to not give him a heads up, Lance.” He says through gritted teeth as he walks up to the door to knock.

Lance looks sheepish. Arthur didn’t buy it. It occurs to him that he was giving his friends far too much leeway with this, but it's too late to go back on his promise now.

“Right. Sorry.”

The king shakes his head just as an old man’s yell reaches them from inside.

“Keep your breeches on, just come inside! Lance, why didn’t you let them in.”

Lance rolLs his eyes and Arthur hears Gwen stifle a giggle. He and Leon exchange identical looks of wary confusion before following Lance inside.

“Sorry, Dragoon. Over here, Arthur.”

Lance waves them all in and Arthur takes in their surroundings. The house is decently neat, if a bit bare of belongings. In fact it looks barely lived in and Arthur glances around, wondering just how long the sorcerer has lived here. 

There is a large fireplace on one wall, a bed on another and a few cabinets and drawers on the other that doesn’t have the front door. Two windows look out from beside the door, and a large wooden table with several chairs sit in the middle of the room.

It is an average house of Camelot, one that Arthur normally wouldn’t have looked twice at. 

The same cannot be said of its occupant.

The man- Dragoon, Lance had called him, and what an odd name Arthur thinks- was one of the oldest men Arthur has ever seen. Older than Geoffrey of Monmouth, older than Gaius and definitely older than any noble in Camelot. He has long wispy hair that is nearly pure white, and a long beard that hangs to his chest. His face is wrinkled and pouty, his hands gnarled, and he stands slightly stooped, as if there is something wrong with his back.

His robes are dark blue with silver trim and Arthur has a vivid recollection of one of the few picture books he’d once perused as a child while visiting Bayard’s kingdom. Vivian had left all of her toys around and five-year-old Arthur had been enraptured with the caricaturish drawing of the wizard in her story book. Uther had any books containing magical characters burned. Arthur had never seen one before.

This old man looks almost identical to what he remembers from that book.

And he is staring right at Arthur. 

For what feels like a few minutes there is nothing but expectant silence as Arthur and the sorcerer take one another in. Leon and Percy edge around the room, examining anything that looks suspicious, while Lance and Gwaine keep an eye on the sorcerer.

The wizard just stares at Arthur, and the king sees the man’s mouth move, as if he was swallowing back words. 

A spell, perhaps? Arthur’s hand goes to his sword and he sees the sorcerer note the movement, sees his eyes widen before narrowing into barely more than slits just as Lance coughs and Gwen prompts, “um, Dragoon?”

The wizard ignores them, looking back up to Arthur’s eyes. “So, the mighty Arthur Pendragon, we finally meet.” 

The voice sounds just as crotchety as it had from outside.

“Yes.” He replies slowly. “And you are…?”

“Dragoon. Dragoon the… Great!”

“Dragoon the Great.” Arthur repeats doubtfully, taking in the wrinkled robes. “Right.”

The man’s eyes narrow further. “Don’t you take that tone with me, young man! I’ve seen things you can barely imagine! I could turn you into a donkey, or a- a toad right here where we stand.”

Arthur’s eyebrows rise and he glances questioningly at Lance, and then Gwaine who makes a choked noise of bitten off laughter. “Not very smart of you, threatening the king. I could have you executed for that.”

The man doesn’t even twitch. “But then you would have wasted a trip here and lost any chance of using my valuable skills. Not the best thought out plan.”

No, Arthur has to give him that. 

There is something about this man, he decides. Something familiar. He cocks his head. “Have we met before?”

The old man’s mouth falls open, as if he was insulted. He stands there gaping idiotically for a few seconds before abruptly snapping it shut and shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so, I never forget a face.”

“Your eyes…” Arthur says slowly, mouth moving before he could think his words through. “Do I really not know you?”

“What? No! Of course not, how could you? I’m older than your grandfather, boy-”

“My grandfather’s dead. Both of them.” Arthur points out but the old wizard only waves him off.

“-so how could you possibly know me? I hardly think we run in the same social circles!”

Arthur looks back at him doubtfully, kindly not pointing out their mutual friends standing feet away. 

“Okay…” He says slowly.

“Good. Now don’t bring it up again.” The old man looks around at them all. “What do you all want?”

“Dragoon,” Gwaine takes over and speaks with a mischievous smile that Arthur doesn’t recognize. It almost looks knowing, and he notices the sorcerer narrow his eyes at the knight. “We have heard of your prowess in the art of scrying and humbly request you help us.”

Dragoon snorts at Gwaine’s mock bow as if he can't help himself and surveys them all carefully before his attention settles on Arthur. “Why should I help you? Last I heard magic is still outlawed here in Camelot. I’m not in the mood to sign my own death warrant, no matter how old I am.”

“That’s not an issue,” Leon says while Arthur speaks at the same time.

“We won’t execute you. Sorcerers are no longer punished in Camelot, as long as they don’t hurt anybody.” 

“Really?” Dragoon spits the word so forcefully that some saliva flies from his mouth. It lands at Arthur’s feet, barely avoiding touching him. He wrinkles his nose in distaste. “What could have changed your mind on that, I wonder?”

“Well since the death of his father-” Gwaine begins but Arthur interrupts him.

“I have different views on magic than I used to.” Is all the explanation he gives. “Now can you help us or not?”

“Depends.” The man stares at him. “Who would I be scrying for?”

“The Lady Morgana,” Gwen answers, face and tone slightly pleading. For the first time since they’d come in Arthur sees the sorcerer’s face soften slightly as they look at each other. “Please, we just want to know where she is and if she’s alright.”

“That’s right.” Arthur says, drawing the man’s attention back to him. “And if you can, we’d like to see King Cenred as well, and perhaps get some clue about any current plans he may have regarding warfare.”

“Hmm.” Those blue eyes scan them all again before settling on Gwen who still looks sweetly desperate. “Alright, fine, I’ll help you. Though I do want to point out how like your father it is to use sorcerers for your own purposes while still outlawing magic in Camelot.”

Arthur watches as the man moves to drag a large cauldron out from under the kitchen table. It is already full of water which he thinks is very lucky. 

“I’m changing that law, actually,” he murmurs belatedly in response as he bends over to look into the cauldron, trying to see any powders or ingredient bits or potions in the water and failing to find anything. Leon checks with him. “It’s just tied up in legislation at the moment.”

He is so busy inspecting the cauldron that it takes him a few beats to pick up on the sudden silence in the room, and when he does he pulls back to stand straight and look around at the others.

Leon looked just as confused as Arthur, thankfully, making him feel a bit less slow. And for some reason Gwaine, Lance and Gwen are staring at the sorcerer intensely, as if waiting to see his reaction. 

Percy meets Arthur’s questioning stare and shrugs. Trust him to be unconcerned about these things.

When Arthur finally looks at the sorcerer he is surprised at how Dragoon is watching him, with wide eyes and an open mouth in complete shock. 

“You’re changing the law?” He asks, and suddenly his voice is entirely different, more like it belonged to somebody Arthur’s own age than someone four times that. “Magic will be legal?”

It makes sense, the king thinks to himself, that Dragoon would be happy to hear this. It is his life they were talking about after all.

Arthur nods. “It was my first change as king. It’s just gotten pushed to the side while we deal with… everything else.”

Dragoon’s mouth works, as if he is trying to speak but can't find the words, and Arthur can't help asking the question once more. 

“Look, are you sure that I don’t know you? Only your eyes look extremely familiar, I’m sure I recognize them from somewhere...”

Merlin, he realizes right after the words fade away. The eyes, the way the man looks at him, the things he said, his attitude. The sorcerer reminds him of Merlin. Painfully.

His chest suddenly feels tight.

Get a grip, he tells himself. Now isn’t the time. You’ve been over this. Just because this is the first sorcerer you’ve spoken to since Merlin left doesn’t mean anything, and neither does the fact that he knows all of your friends Merlin knew too. It’s not him. Merlin probably never wants to step foot in Camelot again because of you.

Besides. Dragoon is probably something like 80 years old, for gods’ sakes. Just because his eyes and his voice occasionally are like Merlin’s means nothing. Arthur has been seeing shadows of Merlin in every person and every corner since he’d sent him away. This is nothing new.

Still, Arthur thinks while watching the man, now that he knows what it is, he can't get the comparison out of his mind. And he isn’t sure it is entirely his imagination this time.

“What? No, I already told you! Now move back! I need space to work and you’re all crowding me.” Dragoon snaps, teeth bared in what Arthur guesses was meant to be a menacing look.

“You’re a really grumpy old man, aren’t you?” Gwaine asks, breaking the strange tension between them, and making Arthur and the sorcerer shoot him almost identical looks of annoyance. 

“Gwaine,” the king warns and Dragoon grins smugly.

“Yes,  _ Gwaine _ . Watch out, or I’ll turn  _ you  _ into a toad.” 

Arthur and Leon both frown at the threat but Gwaine only laughs. “That’s hardly original. I expected better from you, Dragoon.”

“Oh, I’ll show you original,” the old man mutters under his breath, giving Gwaine one last look before turning back to Arthur. “Now then, back up, what did I say?”

Arthur rolls his eyes but complies, moving back with the others so the old man can look into the pot of water.

He mutters a few words and waves his hands over the water. Arthur isn’t the only one who leans forward to peek at the surface, trying to see images in the water, and the wizard is concentrating so much that he doesn't even berate them for it.

Finally flashes of scenes appear, too quickly for Arthur to truly comprehend, though he makes out bits and pieces. Morgana’s face, twisted in cruelty, standing beside Morgause. When he blinks the scene changes and it is Cenred sitting on a horse in a field, the two women standing in front of him as they spoke. Moments later it morphs into what looks like the three of them on horseback at the head of a huge army.

It changes again, and again, but Arthur is dumbstruck and reeling from what he’s already seen so he misses the rest. The images change so quickly he wonders how it is possible that anybody could make sense of them, and when he glances at the others they all look just as confused as he is.

Except for Dragoon, who is frowning, eyebrows furrowed, and suddenly doesn't look like the cranky old man Arthur has been speaking to this entire time. No, now he looked concerned and, if possible, maybe even a little scared.

“Morgana is with Morgause in Cenred’s kingdom.” The sorcerer says abruptly, making Arthur blink in surprise. “They are allies. It looks as if they’re preparing for war. I see an army, gathered and outfitted, ready to march.”

“Allies?” Gwaine says. “Dammit, that’s not good. Not good at all.”

“Shut up, Gwaine,” Leon murmurs, but his eyes are on Arthur. 

“I’m just saying,” the other knight replies, and Percy nudges him in the side to quiet him.

Arthur doesn’t look away from Dragoon’s eyes, trying to find some hint of a lie in them. 

But he can’t. There’s something about them, like he said earlier. Clear and blue, innocent and looking like they couldn’t tell a lie if asked at swordpoint.

They’re very familiar to him and he’s sure now that it’s not his mind playing tricks, or the memory of Merlin clouding his judgement. No, something about them, or maybe the man himself, puts Arthur at ease. 

He doesn’t know why he trusts the sorcerer but he does. He nods his thanks at the information.

“Well if that will be all,” Dragoon says suddenly before turning away and making Arthur blink as the eye contact between them is broken. “I have things to do, you know, others who require my help…”

He trails off significantly and the others in the room begin to move to leave, all except Leon who watches Arthur with a knowing look on his face.

“There is something else,” Arthur says, ignoring Leon, and causing Gwen, Lance and Gwaine to glance back at him in surprise. He doesn’t look at any of them. “I wonder if you could find somebody else for me. A man, one who left Camelot over a year ago. Last I heard he was traveling Albion, and he might be still.”

The sorcerer freezes, his back to Arthur, and the king hears someone make a surprised noise behind him. He thinks it was Gwaine.

“Why do you want to find him?” Dragoon asks, back to sounding very young, and Arthur wishes the old man would turn around so he could see his face. 

Still, maybe it’s easier that he’s not, because Arthur swallows dryly, almost nervously, to say, “he was very important to me, once. I’d like to know where he is.”

If he’s alright, Arthur doesn’t say. 

Silence stretches out awkwardly and still the old man doesn’t turn. Arthur feels embarrassment begin to creep in as his patience grows thin.

Evidently Gwaine feels the same because he interrupts the quiet to say, “look, maybe we should go-”

The wizard turns back around, attention solely on Arthur, as if he hadn’t noticed Gwaine speaking at all. As if he’s forgotten the rest of them are there entirely. 

“Somebody important to you,” he repeats, voice raspy. He is standing straight and Arthur wonders what happened to his back ailment. “What’s his name?”

Arthur swallows as the letters form on his tongue. “Merlin.”

Dragoon looks dumbstruck for only a few seconds this time before looking to the side. “No, I’m sorry, I won’t be able to find him. My strength is gone. It will be a while until I have the energy to scry again.”

Disappointment cuts through him like a blade as Arthur nods. It had been silly to hope, he supposes, and is probably for the best. Right now he needs to focus on Morgana and the war coming to Camelot. His people need him and are counting on him to give them all he can; that means his priorities need to be clear. His mind can't be divided and neither can his heart.

Camelot comes first. Always. No matter how much it pains him otherwise, that is the way it has to be. The way it always will be, because of who he is.

So he nods. “That’s fine. Thank you for your help-”

“Arthur,” the old man catches his arm before he can turn and leave. His grip is surprisingly strong, and sends a flare of  _ something  _ through Arthur at the contact, even through the cloth of his shirt. “I know the man you’re speaking of. I met him on my way here to Camelot. He’s safe.”

Immediately Arthur stops and turns back to him, clasping the man’s arm and giving him his full, undivided attention as he leans forward to search his face intently again for a hint of a lie. “You saw Merlin?”

Those blue eyes watch him closely as the sorcerer nods. 

“Where? When? How was he? Did he- was he unharmed?” He asks in a rush before a question strikes him and he looks accusingly at Gwen and Lance. “Did you two know he’d seen him?”

“No!” Gwen answers, both of them looking just as shocked as Arthur feels.

“Because if you purposely didn’t tell me-”

“They didn’t know.” Dragoon says with raised eyebrows and a complicated emotion in his eyes. Arthur is too concerned with waiting for answers to bother trying to figure out what it might be. “But yes, he was fine. I met him a few months ago in Mercia where he was staying in a village known as Rowanhurst helping the people there and learning from the Druids. By now he’s probably long gone. He was getting ready to leave when I came across him.”

“Rowanhurst.” Arthur rolls the name around in his mouth, though it is unfamiliar. As soon as he gets back to the castle he is going to hunt for a map of Mercia that has this village on it. “Is it far?”

“Far enough,” Dragoon replies, which is maddeningly unhelpful. The wizard cocks his head. “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing,” Arthur waves the question away absently, most of his mind trying to think of where Merlin could be. Mercia shared a border with Camelot but Arthur still feels like the distance yawned between them keenly. “You’re sure he was unharmed?”

“Positive.” If Arthur had cared enough to pay attention to him he would have seen that Dragoon is watching him far too closely. “Who was this man to you, to be so important to the King of Camelot?”

“He…” Arthur trails off, blinking as he comes back to himself and actually meets Dragoon’s eyes. The answer should have been simple and yet Arthur finds every word that springs to mind feels inadequate. “He’s my manservant.”

Another complicated expression crosses Dragoon’s face before he settles on looking surprised. “I see.” 

A few seconds tick by before words seemed to fall from the sorcerer’s mouth. “He did mention he had a master, one he thought very highly of.” Dragoon searches Arthur’s face. “He said it was because of him that he was traveling and learning whatever he could to improve his magic. To protect you.”

Arthur blinks quickly, surprised when he feels his eyes stinging. His voice when he speaks is quiet. “What else did he say?”

It almost looks like there are tears in Dragoon’s eyes, but surely that is a mistake on Arthur’s part. The wizard turns to hide his face for a moment, and Arthur blinks when a moment later Dragoon is looking back and any sheen Arthur had seen was gone. 

“He said he missed his home a great deal, and those he had left behind.”

Arthur looks away in shame. His throat works until he manages the words. “They miss him too.”

A small noise behind him makes both he and Dragoon jump, and Arthur glances back to see Gwen blush as she hurriedly stands up from the table she’s leaned back on before it had scraped against the floor. 

The reminder of the others shock Arthur like cold water being poured on him, and again embarrassment yanks Arthur back to harsh reality.

Gwaine and Lance frown at Gwen, though Arthur doesn't see it.

He abruptly remembers just where he is and who he is talking to. This man is a stranger to him, a sorcerer on top of that, and the last thing Arthur needs to do is make him interested in Merlin by giving away how attached the king is to him. For all Arthur knows the man could use the information, or give it to somebody else who will use it. Someone who will find Merlin before Arthur gets the chance, who will take him captive or use him to gain power over Arthur and Camelot. They could use Arthur’s feelings for Merlin to hurt him in some way. 

Already he’s said far too much.

So he takes a step back, face closing off, and clears his throat so that his voice will be toneless. 

“Though the man was important to me, he betrayed my trust, forcing me to exile him from Camelot. I only wish for you to find him so I can make sure he hasn’t returned and broken that exile.”

“Oh.” Dragoon says, sounding young again. Arthur watches as the almost  _ hurt  _ expression on his face disappears and his croaky old voice returns. “I see.”

“Yes.” Arthur replies, trying to stress the point.

The wizard’s nostrils flare. “You are as bad as every other high lord or lady, a noble too arrogant to see farther than the end of his own nose to those around you.”

Arthur’s anger flares, and it is only partly because the sorcerer is now reminding him more of Merlin than ever, which pains him. “Now, just one second-”

“Oh, Merlin told me about how he ran after you night and day,  _ sire _ . How he was responsible for fetching your food, cleaning your chambers, polishing your armour, mucking out your stables, mending and washing your clothes, all while coming along on any ridiculous hunting trip or quest you were both roped into! Not to mention the chores and errands he did for Gaius too! And in the meantime, he was spending his every spare second protecting you, saving your life more than any of your knights ever could, and fearing for his life because he was keeping his secret-”

“No!” Gwen, Lance and Gwaine shout and rush forward, but it is Arthur who moves quickly and quietly to clap his hand over the wizard’s open mouth, cutting off his tirade.

“That’s enough,” he says, glancing quickly at Leon who is frowning, at Percival who has come back in and is looking between them all in confusion, and then back at the others. The other three look panicked, Lance and Gwaine as well as Gwen, and though it had been fairly clear before, Arthur is now sure they both know about Merlin’s magic too.

Could she have told them? Lance maybe, Arthur might believe that, but Gwaine? That didn’t seem like Gwen.

He shifts his attention back to Dragoon, putting aside his questions for now and ignoring how hard his heart is beating in fear from the fact that the old man had nearly exposed Merlin to everyone in the room. 

“Merlin’s secrets will remain his own.” He tells the old man significantly. “We owe him that much, at least.”

It is only when Dragoon nods that Arthur pulls his hand back and steps away. He sees the slightly sheepish look on the wizard’s face and it makes him feel a smidge better to know that he hadn’t been about to sell Merlin out on purpose. 

Still, it is dangerous. Arthur isn’t foolish enough to think that there won’t be questions after this, particularly from Leon whose eyes have widened and his mouth has fallen open, though after Arthur looks at him significantly the knight tries to regain control of himself. 

The king isn’t brave enough to look back at Lance or Gwaine. He will deal with that later if he has to.

Instead he clears his throat a final time, trying to regain control of the situation. At some point this conversation has run away from him and he’s not sure if it happened before or after he’d bought up Merlin.

“I will forgive your words against me because of the service you’ve done for us.” He says to Dragoon. “But I will not do so a second time.”

Dragoon stares back at him with wide eyes and nods, as if surprised at himself and his own daring.

Truthfully, Dragoon’s accusations sting because they are confirmation of everything Arthur has suspected. He’d known he was overworking Merlin as his servant, giving him jobs that should have been given to others in the castle, but Arthur had just enjoyed riling him up too much. Also the knowledge that it was Merlin who’d done all those things for him, getting every meal, dressing him in the morning, mending his clothes and caring for his horses and armour, it meant that everything Arthur touched or wore or ate reminded him of his manservant. 

He’d liked that. 

And he’d liked having Merlin’s attention on himself, or at least on his things. There wasn’t time for Merlin to chase serving girls or stable boys when he was too busy making sure Arthur’s lists of errands were done. There was barely a spare moment for himself as he worked overtime to ensure Arthur didn’t throw another royal hissy fit because Merlin had been in the tavern rather than by his side or doing whatever last minute orders he’d tacked on.

But Dragoon has confirmed it by relaying to Arthur and the others what Merlin had told him. Merlin had been doing the work of more men than Arthur could count while caring for him, learning under Gaius, and then going out of his way to protect Camelot and Arthur from whatever threat they’d been facing that month or that week. 

Lance catches his eye and gives him a look, tearing Arthur back out of his thoughts so that he can finish talking to the wizard.

“So thank you,” Arthur says to him. He adds kindly, though it isn’t fully true. “You’ve been very helpful.”

Dragoon’s lips twitch, as if he finds Arthur’s manners amusing. “Of course, sire.”

It still sounds sarcastic. The resemblance to Merlin was uncanny. 

Arthur turns away, towards the others. “Leon will pay you. Goodbye then.”

The sound of coins being put on the table clink in the silence following his words.

That was the signal for them to leave, starting with Gwaine, who nods at Dragoon, and Gwen who shoots him a kind smile while Lance looks back with inscrutable eyes before turning away to walk out the door.

Leon hesitates, obviously waiting for Arthur to go first, but the king angles his head in a clear message for the other man to lead the way. With only a moment’s pause Leon’s eyes glance from the sorcerer to Arthur before he nods and does what Arthur wants.

As soon as the door closes Arthur turns back to the old man who is watching him with an unreadable expression. “I want you to swear that you won’t tell anybody about Merlin’s secret. That little near-slip we just had can’t happen again, do you understand?”

Dragoon meets his eyes, looking puzzled. “Why would you care? You sent him away and the law’s about to be changed. What difference does it make?”

Arthur crosses his arms. “Merlin is well-known in this town, and well-loved. A lot of people would have something to say if they found out he had magic without him being the one to tell them himself. Don’t take that away from him.”

Dragoon’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “You want me to keep it a secret  _ for  _ him?”

“Who else?” Arthur asks, frustrated. “Will you swear?”

Dragoon stares at him before nodding slightly. “Yes. Yes, I swear. I won’t tell Merlin’s secret unless he wants it told.”

Arthur combs over the wording, wondering if there is some trick or wordplay he's missing, but in the end he can't find anything so he just nods. “Good. I trust you’ll know to keep this meeting secret as well?”

He doesn't put much stock in that, but he is hoping that maybe the old man will realize matters of Camelot’s security and defense are surely for the old man’s best interests as well as Arthur’s.

Again Dragoon’s lips twitch. “Yes, I can do that.”

“Alright.” He nods at the wizard one last time before walking away. “Goodbye then.”

“Goodbye, Arthur,” Dragoon replies, and though Arthur turns around in surprise at the depth of fondness in the sorcerer’s voice he is too late to catch his face, and instead is met with the sight of the shut door.

When he turns back around he sees the others waiting for him, all of them with concerned or questioning expressions on their faces.

He strides past quickly, happy when they all fall into step. “Come on. We have a war to plan.”

* * *

Because these things all happen at once, Mordred arrives in Camelot the next day.

Merlin just can't catch a break.

He is older, and looks it too, but Merlin recognizes those blue eyes, heavy and far too wise for Mordred’s age, just like they’d always been. He sees the lines etched onto the pale face that speak of years of hardship and pain, and remembers a young boy terrified for his life. 

Merlin looks at Mordred and Kilgarrah’s warning rings in his ears. 

This is who will kill Arthur unless Merlin protects him by somehow stopping the whole thing from happening. One person who will be responsible for bringing Merlin’s whole world to an end.

And now Mordred is back and a newly made knight. He is a Druid welcomed into Camelot with open arms by the king himself. 

By Arthur’s side.

Meanwhile Merlin is banished and likely a dead man as soon as Arthur caught wind that he is here disguised as somebody else.

The only thing that hasn’t gone wrong yet is that Mordred doesn’t seem to know Merlin is here. He's lucky, he supposes, that he had his friends and Gaius in the castle to tell him the news, to be his eyes and ears over Arthur when Merlin can't himself.

It's Lance who tells him first, making Merlin shoot to sit straight up in his chair rather than slump over tiredly like he had been before. 

“Mordred?” He’d demanded, hand firmly on Lance’s wrist. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Lance watched him. “Gwen said you’d all helped him, in the past.”

“We have.” He replied slowly, mind racing, trying to come up with- with a plan, an idea, something that would get Mordred out of Camelot safely and not look too suspicious so that Merlin could focus on other pressing issues.

An impending war, for one. 

He had (quite valiantly, if you asked him, which no one did) recovered from the shock of seeing Arthur again for the first time in years by resolutely  _ not  _ thinking about it. It wasn’t as hard as one might have thought, given that Merlin also now had Morgana, Morgause and King Cenred to worry about. 

(It's a lie, of course. Last night when he  _ should  _ have been planning something against Camelot’s enemies he’d instead brooded over how different Arthur looked - not much, but enough that Merlin had noticed right away- along with the things he’d said and the things he’d done, all of which had left Merlin more confused than ever.

He’d thought Arthur hated him. Truly and honestly hated every part of him for who he was and the lies he’d told. But yesterday, what he’d said about Merlin being important to him, about keeping his magic secret just so that Merlin could decide how and when to tell people, the way he’d looked and the tone he’d used when saying Merlin’s name…

That hadn’t been hatred. He’s not sure what it was, but he knows what hatred looks like on Arthur, and it hadn’t been that.

And Merlin, idiot that he was, had gone and blathered on about how he’d gone and traveled for Arthur, learnt new spells for Arthur, basically spelling out the fact that he was still Arthur’s, wholly and completely, for everyone to hear.

Honestly. What had he been thinking?

He hadn’t been. The moment he’d seen Arthur any quickly formed plans had flown Merlin’s mind and he’d been left a stuttering old fool. Which was something that Gwaine had endlessly reminded him of last night while Gwen and Lance had looked on in sympathy during their late visit to check up on him. They hadn’t disagreed with Gwaine though, or felt bad enough for Merlin to step in and stop the teasing.)

However, that was beside the point. Right now he has to worry about saving all of Camelot and after that he will finally, finally, consider giving in to his friends’ frustrated cajoling and consider telling Arthur that he is back and not leaving again.

He knows he wouldn’t go, no matter what Arthur might do or say. Merlin doesn't think he can bear to do it again.

Gwaine, Lance and Gwen haven’t taken it easy on him. They pointed out all of the same things Merlin himself is obsessing over; the way Arthur had been desperate to hear news about him, how defensive he was during their conversation… every little hint Merlin is trying not to make a big deal about. Because if he does, and it all turns out to be nothing, if Arthur does really hate him and just want to know where he was to make sure he was still gone, then Merlin’s hopes would be torn to shreds and his heart broken. 

He doesn’t want his friends to give him false hope, and so he refuses to believe the things they’d said last night. It would hurt too much. And so he hides, and he stays away from Arthur, and he does his best to look after him from as far away as he can bear. Any hope of confessing will have to wait until a better time. Merlin doesn't want to make himself sick worrying about it now. 

Instead, he'll worry about Mordred.

He blows an exasperated breath out of the corner of his mouth while worrying his lower lip with his teeth. 

_Great_.


	8. you keep my head above the water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh so sorry this took so long to post; honestly forgot it was Tuesday today !!!  
> hope y'all enjoy! only one chapter (probably) left to go!

A few weeks pass with all of Camelot up in arms and bustling with movement. They are preparing for war, for a siege, for an attack, whatever Arthur and his council deem possible.

Merlin has filled his meagre food stocks and tried to spread more throughout the lower town, always the last to get any provisions. The brothel workers in particular have been desperate for anything they can get, and so he gives them all he can. He subtly casts spells on the wells throughout the town, ensuring clean pipes that will hopefully remain impervious to any poisons Morgause and the others could think up. Carefully he whispers words over the food stores to preserve it all a few days or weeks longer than it would usually last. In a siege a few days or weeks of food can mean the difference between victory or defeat.

He’s done the best he can without knowing exactly what to expect. Gwaine smuggles him into the armoury to strengthen the weapons, to fix problems with sword balance, with grip, but they are still woefully unprepared if this battle involves magic. 

Merlin will step in if it becomes necessary. He’s already planning on sneaking his way into the castle and hiding in Gaius’ chambers if there’s a lockdown, just so that he can be close to Arthur if the time comes that he’s needed.

It would be so much easier if he could just go back home as himself, something that his friends keep constantly reminding him, but Merlin refuses them every time. Arthur had asked him to stay away and Merlin isn’t ready to admit to him that he’d refused to do even that after breaking his trust so badly already.

From what Lance says Arthur has sent out scouts and there is no sign of Cenred’s army, but Merlin doesn’t know how that can be possible. He’s been scrying them every night and every night the terrain where Cenred set up camp grew more and more familiar. 

They’re close. He knows it. 

So how is it the scouts aren’t seeing anything? Are Morgause and Morgana powerful enough to hide an entire army from view? 

Merlin doesn’t think so. 

He wracks his brain, he talks about it with Lance, Gwaine and Gwen, telling them what he sees and that he’s sure they’re all being tricked somehow. They bring it back to Arthur, warning him to be careful, to always stay prepared, and Merlin notices the constant patrols and the fires burning outside Camelot’s walls as sentries keep watch, and he still doesn’t feel reassured even though the king is obviously listening.

It’s not enough. Everything they are doing won’t be enough, because Cenred and the others would be crazy not to use magic. And magic can mean anything.

Merlin can pass along all the warnings possible through the others but that will never be as good as actually being at Arthur’s side to protect him.

And even his warnings are ignored sometimes. He’s told Lance and Gwen about Mordred and he sees in their eyes they don’t believe him.

“He’s loyal to Arthur,” Lance tells him confidently. “Seriously Merlin, you should see the way the kid looks at him, it’s practically hero-worship.”

That only makes Merlin feel worse. What happens when Arthur makes a mistake and that hero-worship turns into disappointed hatred? What will Mordred be capable of then?

Gwen is kinder but even she seems skeptical. “Mordred? The same Mordred we all smuggled out of Camelot years ago? I doubt he would do anything to Arthur after he helped save him like that.”

“He will,” Merlin says desperately. “Gwen, the dragon told me, he’s a danger to Arthur.”

She bites her lip. “The same dragon that you said yourself only works for his own interest? Merlin, this is a man’s life we’re talking about, somebody we both knew as a child. Surely you don’t want us to hurt him?”

And Merlin, faced with her endless trust and kindness, swallows his own dark words and feelings. Because the truth is, if it comes to it, he knows he will do whatever it takes to protect Arthur from Mordred, even if that means killing the Druid boy. It’s not as if he hasn’t killed in Arthur’s name before. 

But he can’t admit that to Gwen. Gwen who is still the best person Merlin knows, who is still good and lovely and innocent despite everything they’ve all been through over the years. 

The same goes for Lance. They’re pure, the two of them, and it was only once he’d left Camelot that Merlin realized he wasn’t. Not anymore. He isn’t like them.

So he doesn’t push it, even though the threat of Mordred keeps him up at nights.

Gaius nods and listens to him, saying he would take care to pay attention, but even that doesn’t settle Merlin. The years were passing quickly, it seemed, and Gaius isn’t the same man Merlin had met on his first night in Camelot. He was getting older and Merlin will do everything he can to keep him safe and far out of the line of fire as well.

In the end it’s Gwaine who reassures him a bit. When Merlin comes to him with his worries about Mordred his friend doesn’t scoff, or look at him as if he’s lost his mind. 

No, Gwaine purses his lips, takes in Merlin’s desperation, and nods. “Alright, I’ll keep an eye out.”

Relief sweeps through Merlin like a wave. “You will?”

“Of course.” Gwaine says easily, shooting him a smile. “If you say he’s someone to watch, I believe you. He is a bit funny, now that you mention it. I just chalked it up to him being a Druid but there’s something about him, you know?”

“Like what? Do you think he’s plotting anything?”

“Nothing like that, no. Not that I’ve noticed anyway. He’s just a bit intense sometimes. Very loyal to Arthur, desperate to prove himself, to make magic legal for his people. But if all of that passion was used for less honourable things…” Gwaine hums quietly. “Well, let’s just say I could see how he could be dangerous.”

“Thank you,” Merlin says, and he’s honestly close to tears because he’s just so relieved that somebody is actually listening to him about this, that at least someone near Arthur will be on guard and ready to protect him. 

“What are friends for,” Gwaine smiles at him easily, and Merlin feels his heart swell.

He has to protect Camelot. Not just for Arthur, but for Gwaine too, and everybody here he loves. This is his home and no matter what Cenred, Morgause or Morgana throw at them, Merlin has to make sure everyone he cares about makes it out of this alive.

It’s his destiny, after all.

* * *

It happens in the rain.

One second Merlin is sitting inside his home, talking to Gwaine and laughing in the middle of the story his friend is telling him about the cook practically smacking this one stable boy upside the head with a ladle for following around her new assistant, and the next he feels the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

It’s like a shiver that works its way down his spine, a chill that freezes his marrow, and without waiting a second, Merlin is getting up and rushing past Gwaine before bursting outside of his home to see a huge ball of fire falling from the sky towards the city.

The rain is pelting down but it doesn’t put the flames out, and somebody screams, and then lots of people scream, and Gwaine comes up behind him, letting out a curse, saying something about “we need to get to Arthur” but Merlin only barely hears him. His hair is already plastered to his skin, the water is trickling down his face, over his neck into his clothes and he reacts on instinct, lifting both hands and practically yelling out the words to reinforce the magical shields he’s put up around Camelot, hoping with everything he has that it holds, that this isn’t it, not before he’s had a chance to fix everything-

-and it works.

The ball of fire crashes into Merlin’s invisible dome and fizzles out after shooting orange and red and blue sparks. Disappearing just like that and Merlin hears the screams die to be replaced with yelled questions and crying, before the people turn and begin to run towards the castle citadel, towards guards and help and their king for protection.

He looks up and sees more fireballs coming and his skin goes ice cold, all of the blood draining out of his face when he sees the actual firestorm falling towards them all.

“Merlin.” Gwaine grips his arm hard and whirls him around, but not before Merlin sees the few people around them who are staring, one pointing right at him while whispering to another. 

And his stomach sinks because even though he looks like Dragoon right now it’s still too much unwanted attention that could ruin everything. It’s the fear in their eyes, mixed with a wary shock and maybe one or two look grateful, but it’s not enough to stop them all flinching away and turning to join the others in running towards the city center to get away from him and to safety.

“ _Merlin_!” Gwaine actually shakes him this time, just as Merlin looks up to see all of the fires burst against his shields and disappear. “We have to go, come on!”

But Merlin is shaking his head, still looking up, waiting for more fire to come. When none does he chews his lower lip nervously, wondering if the sorcerers stopped because they are exhausted or if they’d realized it’s futile and are ready to try something else. Something that might work, an attack that Merlin hasn’t prepared for, and he needs- he needs…

He needs to go and see what they’re dealing with. Because while there’s no doubt in his mind that this is Morgana, which means Cenred and Morgause too, he isn’t willing to trust that it’s them alone. That was too much power unleashed at once, even for Morgause, and Morgana is strong but Merlin doesn’t think she was that strong, not yet. 

No, a coordinated attack like that? It takes a lot of people working together at once. Which means that Morgana has found her magical allies, allies who, unlike Merlin, obviously haven’t turned her down. 

“Go,” he says to Gwaine, and his voice sounds distant and unfamiliar even to his own years. He sounds hard, and cold. 

He sounds furious. Ruthless. 

And Gwaine must see something on his face because his friend, stalwart unshakeable Gwaine, he blinks and sucks in a breath, probably inhaling some of the rain pelting down around them as he does. Merlin wonders if maybe this storm isn’t entirely natural after all, but then he pushes that thought away because even if it is, that doesn’t mean he can’t stop it. 

“Find Arthur. Protect him. _Gwaine_ ,” he says seriously when he sees his friend open his mouth to argue. “You promised me.”

It’s enough to make Gwaine’s mouth fall open in something that almost looks like betrayal, the vow that Merlin is reminding him of, this position he’s putting him in of having to choose between Merlin and Arthur. Gwaine had promised him he would look out for Arthur all those years ago when Merlin was leaving Camelot, and he had never broken it, even if Arthur had been “so bloody annoying that he’d been tempted”, at least according to him. 

Merlin is asking him not to break it now. Even if it means letting him go do… whatever it is he’s about to do, alone.

“Come with me.” Gwaine says, and it isn’t begging but gods, it’s close, and it makes Merlin’s chest tighten. “Merlin, please, don’t make me watch you go out there alone.”

“I won’t.” Merlin says and Gwaine breathes out relieved. “I’m going to watch you leave first.”

Gwaine’s jaw hardens, something nervous passing through his eyes, and Merlin just stares back at him, knowing he looks a mess, not knowing what’s in his own eyes and not wanting to. The expression on his friends face is painful enough without thinking about the fact that it’s him who’s causing it. 

“Go Gwaine.”

Gwaine catches his wrist, wrapping his fingers around it tightly, his skin warm against Merlin’s. “You better not die.”

And Merlin hears it, the words Gwaine doesn’t say. Don’t die, because Gwaine will never forgive himself if Merlin gets killed because he isn’t there. Don’t die, because even Arthur isn’t worth it, not in Gwaine’s eyes. 

Merlin nods. “Not planning on it. We still have plans for drinks later, remember? I can’t miss that.”

It’s enough for Gwaine to force a quick grin and Merlin is grateful when he pulls his hand away to release him. “Got that right.”

They share a smile and Gwaine nods once in finality before turning and beginning a sprint towards the castle, the crowds of people parting around him naturally as he goes. 

But when Gwaine disappears up the crest of the hill and out of Merlin’s line of sight he feels his own smile drop immediately as he turns and begins to move as quickly as he can in the opposite direction, towards the city walls and the gates to where Morgana and her army are waiting.

It’s not easy to move in pelting rain when you’re an old man and Merlin grits his teeth in frustration and waves his hand, calling back the magic he can feel running through him that changes his appearance. But even in his own body again, young and long-limbed, it feels like it takes far too long to get to the edges of Camelot, to spot the guards pooling at the gates, massing their strength. He stops, darting to hide between the outermost houses to avoid them seeing him, all while trying to think up a way for him to do this without having to knock out any of their own people to hide his presence. 

He could always just reveal that he was there and chance them recognizing him, and Merlin will do that if it comes to it, but even now he is hoping that there is a way for him to get this to work without messing the rest of it up.

But this was wasting time, and he knows it. He feels the tension in the air, hears the indistinct yells of the knights, and even if he can’t make out what was said the panic in their voices is obvious. 

They’ve been caught off guard. 

Which… how? Arthur has had people scouting for weeks, and Merlin has known they were close, but he’d trusted Lance when he’d said none of their lookouts had spotted anything or anyone unusual. There have been no fleeing refugees coming into Camelot from the nearby towns, no reports of a moving army which is- impossible, really. An army this big means a lot of evidence left in its wake because of the sheer number of mouths and bodies involved. 

Frustration makes Merlin clench his hands. He shouldn’t have missed this. If he couldn’t track an entire army than how can he ever hope to protect Arthur from harder to spot threats? 

Gods. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply, before opening them again. He can’t think like that. Especially now.

His patience is gone. He can’t waste anymore time. All of this hiding is only making him hold back and he can’t afford to do that right now. Merlin decides that he will face the consequences of revealing himself, whatever those are, if only he can just help everyone in Camelot survive this attack. 

A couple of steps bring him out from the alleyway into plain view of the distracted guards, and Merlin moves closer, ready to get somebody’s attention, anyone who can help him get through the gates, or up on the ramparts, but he never gets the chance.

There is a loud boom, and the wooden doors shudder as several of the knights are jolted back at impact. 

“Battering ram!” Somebody yells from up top and Merlin looks up to see a knight in charge make some sort of hand signal. 

“Archers!”

And then men are scrambling to pull out their bows and knock their arrows, something Merlin thinks they should have already done if they’d seen the army charging…

...but had they?

Because surely they would have seen the battering ram coming too, right? 

He doesn’t have time to consider that, or the implications, when another jarring thud sounds from the gates and splinters appear this time. And Merlin knows Camelot’s history, knows that the walls of this city are some of the best in all of Albion and that Camelot has never successfully been invaded; but that doesn’t stop him lifting his hands to cast a strengthening spell on the wood just as a knife comes from behind him to press against his neck.

“Oh, I don’t think so, do you?”

It’s Morgana’s voice, light and airy at his ear, and Merlin only has time for his eyes to widen in surprise and fear before everything goes black. 

* * *

It must only be seconds before Merlin blinks awake again but by then Morgana’s dragged him into an empty nearby house. Merlin feels a tug on his wrists, a discomfort in his shoulders and he looks down to see her crouching at his side and knotting a piece of rope tightly to tie his hands together. 

“Morgana,” he croaks and her green eyes flicker up to pierce him in appraisal as her lip curls faintly.

“You woke up faster than I expected.”

He stretches his jaw and feels a throbbing from the back of his head. She must have hit him with something. “What are you doing?”

She snorts quietly. “I thought that would have been obvious, Merlin, even to you.”

And it stings, of course it does, but he doesn’t let that distract him. “How are you in the walls?”

“Please. I lived in this city for years, you don’t think I know the few secret ways in or out?” She looks away from him again and if he didn’t know any better he’d say she almost looks ashamed. “We needed someone on the inside.”

Merlin’s mind races, trying to figure out their plan, a way to twist it back to his own advantage. “So they’re using you? Morgana-”

“I volunteered.” She cuts him off curtly, pulling the ropes tight one final time, making him wince. “Nobody knows Camelot better than me.”

He swallows. “And you’re going to help them destroy it.”

“I’m going to rescue it,” she hisses, standing up over him and he’d be stupid not to be intimidated, obviously, he’s always been intimidated by Morgana, but he finds himself taking her in and feeling a pang of sympathy for her too. 

“From who?” He asks, gentler than he’d intended. “Uther is dead, Morgana. Camelot is at peace.”

“Uther might be dead but Arthur is his son, Merlin, through and through. You know that. Nothing’s changed.”

And Merlin gapes at her, all the while subtly trying to twist his wrists out of the ropes she’s bound him with. His legs are already tied just as tightly and he doesn’t understand, doesn’t see how she can think Arthur and Uther are the same, doesn’t know why she’s taken _him_ this way when he’s nothing to her but Arthur’s servant, doesn’t know why she’s inside the city when her army is out there. What good could one lone person do against all of Camelot’s knights, even when that person was Morgana?

“Magic is still outlawed.” She’s pacing back and forth in front of him now, looking almost unhinged as she rattles the words off. “People are rejected, shunned, they live in fear because of who they are. They’re mistreated by their families, unclaimed by their parents.”

She goes on but as Merlin looks at her he understands that this isn’t about Arthur. It’s not even really about the ban on magic, though she might use that as an excuse.

This is about Uther. Of course it is. It will always be about Uther.

“You’re wrong.” Merlin says before repeating, “Uther is dead. The magic law is being changed, I know it. And Arthur would happily claim you as his sister, you know that as well as I do. He’s been worried sick about you, trying to see where you were, if you were alright-”

“How would you know?” Morgana scoffs. “You haven’t returned to the castle, haven’t even revealed you’re back here in Camelot.” 

Merlin frowns, wondering how on earth she could possibly know all of that, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask. 

“You’re no longer Arthur’s shadow, Merlin, no longer in his confidence. All because of what you can do. He pushed you away, cast you out, and still you sit there defending him like- like,” her chest heaves and her eyes glint manically. “Like he deserves your loyalty.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” She laughs cruelly. “No, I think it’s _you_ that doesn’t know, Merlin. You don’t know what you’re doing, why you’re back here. You have nobody anymore because they all turned their backs on you, don’t you see? They’ll never change their minds because they don’t know how to accept people like us.” 

Her expression softens and he thinks she does it on purpose because while there’s something desperate in her eyes, he doesn’t think it’s desperation for him to understand her. He thinks it’s desperation for more power, for another knife to stab in Arthur’s back and weaken him, and the last thing Merlin will do is give her that.

“We’re the same,” Morgana presses, moving forward towards him. “The two of us, we have each other. Please, Merlin, you’ve been back long enough to know it will never work out for you here. Join me, join us, and you never have to hide who you are ever again. You never have to be afraid of _what_ you are.”

Honestly? Merlin doesn’t think there’s been any point in his life that he would have considered saying yes to Morgana. He knows Camelot isn’t perfect, knows Arthur isn’t, but he also knows that despite his destiny and the things he’s had to do, Merlin hates hurting people. He’s already done it far too much, and the fact that he can’t even remember all of their names or faces should bother him more than it does. 

But it’s because he knows that, knows that he’s not as affected as he should be, that he puts limits on himself. Because he doesn’t want to be a tyrant like Uther, someone without morals or qualms. And he doesn’t want power, doesn’t feel entitled to it. He just feels the burden it puts on him, the constant weight on his shoulders that he’s never going to be able to escape just because of who he is and who the man he loves is.

He’s accepted that, accepted what he was born to do, but only because he knows protecting Arthur, being by his side, is what’s good and what’s right.

But Morgana’s plan… it isn’t. It’s selfish, borne out of hurt and pain, and she doesn’t see that it will only spread those feelings instead of heal them.

Camelot’s throne is not Morgana’s solution; but she can’t see that.

“We’re not the same,” he replies finally, feeling a flash of guilt at the way hurt crosses her face. “You’ve given up on the people who love us just because they aren’t like us. Just like you were afraid they would give up on you.”

Rage flickers then, briefly, before she carefully hides it. “They did give up on me. Arthur said nothing to Uther in my defense!” She pauses. “Or in yours.”

But that doesn’t even make Merlin pause anymore, because he knows Uther never found out about him. This is Morgana now, he realizes, trying to manipulate, to play mind games. Of course Arthur would never have defended Merlin to Uther, because there had been no accusations slung against him to defend. Uther hadn’t known. Morgana is twisting the truth.

But Morgana, for all she knows, doesn’t seem to realize Merlin isn’t hiding from everybody since he’s come back. He still has connections, still has his friends who keep him informed. People he trusts to tell him the truth.

She thinks he’s alone and she’s trying to prey on that, to use it for her own needs. And, it’s as Merlin fully realizes that, that he truly gives up on her. 

His friend would never have treated him this way. Gods, Morgana had been one of the most selfless people he’d known when he’d first arrived here, and Merlin knows years ago she never would have been able to do this either. 

Now it is like she’s given too much away without getting anything in return, leaving her cold and empty and greedy for everything she can get.

“So what’s your plan then?” Merlin changes tactics. “How is tying me up here going to do anything? You and I both know I can get out of these ropes.”

“Not these.” Her blood red lips split into a grin. “Morgause enchanted them. You’d have to be stronger than her to break them.” Her eyes rake over him. “And somehow I very much doubt you are.”

He stares her down. “You always were good with words.”

“How kind of you to say so. I still won’t release you.”

He bites back his frustration, testing his wrists again, feeling them burn. The screams outside have only grown louder and the warning bell of Camelot cut off ages ago with a suddenness that scares Merlin more than he wanted to admit. 

The air still hums, thick with something he can’t name. Magic, or tension or anticipation maybe, but something cloying, something that’s so strong he can feel it. 

“But why? I’m not powerful, just like you said. What threat do I pose?”

She purses her lips, looking unhappy for a moment. Her makeup hasn’t even smudged amidst everything and he wonders at that distractedly. “Honestly that’s what I thought too. But Morgause doesn’t want to take the risk and I’d rather be safe than sorry. Arthur has gotten out of one or two impossible situations since you came along, after all.”

He shakes his head and speaks without thinking. “If that’s the case then it would make more sense for you to kill me. Because I’ll never stop fighting for Arthur, Morgana. Ever.”

She freezes, fists clenching. “Don’t be stupid.”

He swallows. “I’m not.”

Her eyes dart across his face. “What is this, some trick? You can’t possibly welcome death in the service of a man who abandoned you, even if you do love one another.”

Shock makes him gasp and he wonders at what she means. Obviously Merlin hasn’t hidden it as well as he’d hoped but could she be implying- she’d said _each other,_ as if maybe Arthur…

He clenches his jaw and sets his features, hiding what he can. She seems too distracted to notice, glancing out of the window, twitching as if she’s desperate to leave. “It’s the truth. And you know it.”

Sudden as a striking snake she leans forward to rest her weight on the arms of the chair he is in. 

“You think I won’t kill you?” Her eyes search his rapidly and Merlin sees the depth of her conviction staring back at him. “You underestimate me.”

“Is all of this truly worth it?” 

He jerks his head to indicate the carnage happening outside, all the while ignoring how worried he is for his friends. Surely they’re all safe in the castle. Cenred may have a huge army but Camelot’s castle walls have never been breached by invaders in living memory. Arthur is the king, and his closest friends the members of his personal guard. They have to be safe, them and Gwen and Gaius.

Morgana doesn’t reply.

“You still have family and friends that love you, Morgana. Don’t throw that away.”

Now that he knows it’s there Merlin can feel the magic thrumming through the ropes, the way it bites threateningly at his wrists, and his stomach sinks when he sees that she wasn’t lying. It’s powerful. 

“Please. Don’t do this.”

She gives him one last long look as she stands up to back away. “I gave you a chance Merlin. You’re the one who didn’t take it.” Her face is wicked. “Say hello to Uther in the afterlife for me.”

Her hand lifts as she begins saying the words, eyes flashing gold, and Merlin feels it, the way his airflow seems to just cut off, any hope of a counterspell forgotten as he chokes for breath.

It only takes a split second for his magic to surge up and lash out, a wave more powerful than he’s ever felt before as he snaps his bounds, breaking whatever hold Morgana’s spell has as he moves to stand up in one swift motion.

Merlin doesn’t need a spell. He needs nothing except the power running through him and the vaguest idea of his desired result before the magic pours out and does what he needs it to.

Morgana flies backwards, her arms and dress dragging as she’s yanked by an invisible force right into the stone wall behind her.

She crumples to the ground in a heap and Merlin walks closer, crouching on one knee in time to see her eyes flutter weakly. To meet her confused look with a blank one of his own.

“How…?”

“You were wrong about me.” Merlin answers her confusion. “Wrong about me being willing to betray Arthur, and wrong about what I’m capable of.” He leans in closer. “Tell me, is Morgause more powerful than Emrys?”

Her eyes widen in a combination of shock and fear before she succumbs to her body’s fatigue and falls unconscious. 

Good. That makes what Merlin’s about to do a little easier.

He hoists her up with a bit of difficulty and this time when he strides out of the house he doesn’t pay attention to the knights. Luckily they’re also too busy fighting the hordes of Cenred’s army, and though Merlin hears shouted questions and has to knock more than a few enemy soldiers out of his way using magic, he manages to make it through the gates without anyone stopping him. 

The problem is that Cenred’s army is huge, and though most have swarmed into Camelot, there’s still a battalion stationed outside of the walls. Merlin shifts Morgana in his arms, feels her head loll against his shoulder, and he tries to put on his fiercest expression.

“Take me to Morgause,” he cries out to the blinking men and women in front of him, all the while remembering that Camelot is currently being overrun and he needs to work as quickly as possible. “Unless you want to be responsible for the death of the Lady Morgana.”

His audience looks at each other and he sees them thinking it over, considering, before several men break away from the nearest line to try and rush him, their swords and spears aimed to hurt. 

He lifts a hand and waves it carelessly, watching as they go flying for only a moment before facing the rest. A few of the fallen men get up, but not all. 

“I promise, I can do this all day.”

He searches the crowd, looking, but no one there looks to be of high rank. None of the faces are recognizable. His eyes land on the back, where a man looks away from Merlin to a skinny young boy beside him. After exchanging a few whispered words the runner leaves and Merlin knows Morgause is about to be informed of his arrival.

Fine. It doesn’t make a difference. In fact it just shows him the way.

He’s past the point of caring about not drawing attention as he moves forward, feeling something tighten in him as the mass of bodies moves aside to let him pass, more than a few cowering back.

And then three strangers are approaching, two women and a man. The air around them shimmers and Merlin knows immediately what they’re doing here. The brunette woman wears a dress of dark green that clings to her like a second skin while the blonde beside her is in a simple blue tunic and brown trousers. The man has on robes of black that contrast his red hair and beard. All of them look back at Merlin with hard and determined expressions.

Morgana’s sorcerers.

“Take me to Morgause and Cenred.” Merlin says before they have the chance to speak, sick of playing games.

“Now, Ariana,” the man murmurs, and the woman in the dress raises her hand and shoots a fireball the size of an apple at Merlin’s head.

There’s no time to be disappointed. Gritting his teeth Merlin waves it away and none of them break eye contact as it crashes into the ground right in front of the nearby soldiers. Several screams and shouts ring out before over half of the soldiers break formation and flee to get out of their vicinity. At the same time Merlin lifts his hand again to blow the fire into a wall of flame that separates them.

The attack makes him frown though, and he takes in the sorcerers again. Perhaps Morgana really isn’t as important to them as he’d thought, if they’re willing to risk her like that?

Ariana’s face contorts unhappily as he easily avoids her assault. 

“I’m sure Morgause won’t like you putting her sister in danger like that,” he says, moving forward.

He’s ignored again as Ariana moves to clasp the woman’s hand beside her. “Marilyn.”

This time the fireball is probably about the size of Merlin’s head as it sails towards him, and he realizes they’re combining their strength. 

But they’re also sticking to one spell, which makes him wonder if they’re truly as experienced and confident in offensive magic as they’re trying to appear. 

Merlin jerks his head and this time the fire fizzles out in midair, about halfway between them. 

“Please,” he says, hating how stretched his voice sounds. How tired, even though they’ve only just begun. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That’s impossible.” The man says to the women, eyes more firmly on Merlin now, just as Marilyn reaches out to take his hand. “That was the strength of two-”

“Liam.” Marilyn says, clasping his hand now as well.

“The shield over the city,” Ariana says in horrified realization, just as Liam hesitantly lifts a hand, and this time Merlin actually lets Morgana fall before thrusting out his own hands before they can cast another fireball- or something worse.

They all go flying and this time Merlin winces when Ariana’s head smacks into a rock and Liam hits the ground sharply, his head snapping backwards as his neck makes a loud crack. Neither of them move again.

Merlin gathers up Morgana again. His strength is starting to go and he finds himself dragging her feet and dress along the ground as he moves to stand beside Marilyn who’s dazed and panting.

“You can still run,” he says to her softly, seeing the fear in her eyes and hating that he’s the one who put it there. That he’s just attacked three sorcerers he doesn’t even know. 

But they had attacked his home first, he reminds himself. And if the lack of fireballs raining from the sky onto Camelot now is any indication, he’s just neutralized a rather large threat.

“Just tell me where Morgause is.”

“Right here.” 

The sharp voice rings out just before Merlin is thrown back, losing his grip on Morgana as he flies to land on the ground with a thud, the wind knocked out of him. Heat licks at his hair and the back of his neck and he quickly scrambles away from the wall of flame, the distance giving him a chance to breathe.

He looks up just in time to see Morgause and Cenred stop beside Marilyn’s trembling form after Morgause checks Morgana. The priestess looks down at the other woman. 

“You can’t even defend yourself against a simple serving boy?” Morgause’s lip curls in disgust as Marilyn looks away. “Pathetic.”

“Please,” Marilyn whimpers and looks at Liam and Ariana. “My family-”

“They’re dead. And the others won’t be alive long enough to grieve you,” Cenred says easily from beside Morgause who lifts her open hand only to quickly close it into a fist.

It’s the same spell Morgana had used on him earlier, and he sees Marilyn’s eyes bulge, her mouth gape as she desperately claws for breath. Her chest heaves and she paws at her throat, and then towards Morgause, but the witch only steps back and watches cooly.

“Stop.” Merlin pleads, shakily standing up, making both of their eyes flick to him. Cenred’s guards are watching him intently but the king himself seems more amused than scared. “Let her go.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Morgause laughs and looks at Cenred before he joins in. “What makes you think you’re in any position to give orders?”

“I have-” Merlin starts, but then his eyes fell on Morgana’s prone form lying behind Morgause and he stops. 

He’s lost his bargaining chip. 

“That’s right.” Cenred grins. “See, this is why farmboys shouldn’t try to get above their station. You’re just not suited to it, pet.”

Merlin flushes, mostly from the implication that Cenred knows who he is- and thus where he is from. 

But then the blood drains from his face. 

“Finally remembered Ealdor is a part of my kingdom, have you?” Cenred looks far too cheerful as he and Morgause share a look. “Don’t worry, I haven’t had my men pay it a visit. At least not yet.” His grin is cruel. “Perhaps it can be added to our victory route.”

“Leave them alone.” His voice shakes.

Just as Cenred opens his mouth Morgause cuts in. 

“He’s right, that’s enough Cenred. We have more important things to discuss.” Her head is cocked. “Such as how a simple servant like you was able to overpower someone as powerful as Morgana. And who the sorcerers working for Arthur are that have cast such powerful protection over Camelot.”

Merlin swallows. “There is only one sorcerer helping Arthur.”

Morgana frowns, mouth opening, before something startled crosses her face. When she speaks the words come slow, as if waiting for him to contradict her as she puzzles it out. “A shield that strong… cast by one person alone…” Her eyes shoot up to his. “You aren’t saying that Arthur has Emrys?”

Merlin sucks in a breath. He doesn’t say anything.

Cenred looks between them both. “Who’s Emrys?”

Morgause is looking at Merlin with her complete attention now. “A very powerful sorcerer. Not someone to be taken lightly.” She licks her lips. “If it’s true, if he’s really here…”

That’s when Merlin realizes; Morgause doesn’t think it’s him. She thinks Emrys is another sorcerer.

“What?” When she doesn’t reply Cenred loses patience and snaps at her, “Morgause, you promised me no surprises, that we would have won this attack by nightfall-”

“And we should have!” She replies, still eyeing Merlin. “I ensured that no one would see us as we travelled, securing us the element of surprise. But if anybody can take on an entire army, even one as large as this, Cenred, it’s Emrys. And if your army fails...” 

She trails off but the implication is clear.

Cenred lets out a frustrated sound. “Who is he?”

“Someone I thought was mere myth.” She breathes, finally looking away from Merlin as her eyes drift to the castle. “A being of pure magic, more powerful than any other, even me. Though perhaps we can use that to our advantage. He is one of us, after all.” Her gaze snaps back to Merlin. “You. Tell me where Emrys is.”

He feels the compulsion wash over him like a second skin and his mouth opens, the answer at the tip of his tongue, right before Morgana lets out a groan.

It makes Morgause look back and that’s all the distraction Merlin needs before he pushes out his magic, harder than he had earlier with Morgana, sending Cenred crashing into one of his guards and Morgause-

-Morgause flies straight into one of the spears that had been thrown back too. It pierces her back, the bloodied tip sticking out from her chest, and she lets out a heart-pounding scream.

It’s then that Morgana groans again, her eyes fluttering open, right in time to see her sister fall sideways onto the grass in front of her, blood spitting from her mouth.

Cenred stumbles to his feet as Merlin advances. The king glances at him in fear, his face paling, before taking a step back.

“Sound the retreat,” he barks out. 

He spares one last look at Morgause and Morgana huddled on the ground, before turning around and running as fast as he can into Camelot’s wood. Three of his guards raise the horns hanging at their waists and blow in them, the sound loud enough Merlin resists the urge to cover his ears.

Morgana looks up from where she’s now cradling Morgause’ broken form, the woman making a horrible gurgling sound. His old friend’s green eyes burn with loathing and Merlin is pained when he hears the small bitten-off noises Morgana makes as she holds her sister. 

“You’ll regret this.”

Merlin swallows, hiding his own horror. “You gave me no choice.”

Her laugh is humorless and cruel. “Just as you’ve left me none.”

Before he can blink she’s summoning another fireball, this one large enough that Merlin feels its heat even from where he stands, and with a bone-deep scream it goes up and flying.

And Merlin already knows what will happen, knows that his shield is so weak it’s practically non-existent from how tired he is at this point. From the way the fire is flying, the direction it goes, he knows exactly where it will hit.

The castle.

Merlin knows this, and he can also see what will happen next, moments before it does. He knows the castle, knows that the fireball is headed right for the throne and council room. The room where Arthur could be strategizing right now, laying out defenses and giving orders, completely unaware that he’s about to be burnt alive because Merlin is too weak to stop it.

There is a good chance Arthur is in there right now about to die.

Merlin forgets about Morgause and Morgana, forgets Cenred escaping, and he ignores the rush of Cenred’s army as they flee from Camelot chased by knights. He doesn’t spare a thought for any of that as he rushes forwards, pushing through the people in his way, only to watch in helpless horror as the fire crashes into the castle roof.

As he watches the nearest parts collapse and buckle. The fireball goes right into the castle, perhaps even through the second floor, and smoke billows up almost instantly.

He glances back one last time to see Morgana gathering Morgause and chanting before there’s a blinding momentary flash and they both disappear, leaving Cenred’s army to run in disorganized chaos to the trees.

And then Merlin turns back to run, any thought except the safety of Arthur and the others non-existent.

* * *

When the fireball hits, Arthur is out in the courtyard standing at the head of his men in wait in front of the gates. He has his sword in hand and wears full body armour as he tentatively edges forward to get closer to the wooden barricade.

He exchanges a look with Leon, who nods back at him in silent support. They’d both heard the horns sound, and unless it was to signal some new charge (that Arthur’s runners have reported to be impossible, as the enemy have no reserves to send. Cenred has always been a simple fellow, obviously favouring the full-force approach rather than one of finesse and strategy) the horn is likely a call to retreat.

And it seems that’s exactly what it had been. The ramming of the doors has stopped. All yells and sounds from the other side are getting quieter as they listen to Cenred’s men run away. 

Could it be true? Have they given up, just like that?

Arthur wants it to be real, but the problem is, it doesn’t make any sense.

They’d had the advantage. Cenred, Morgause and Morgana had taken Camelot completely by surprise and their men had swarmed the lower city. The fireballs that had fallen had given Camelot a short period of time to prepare and get themselves in order, especially since they hadn’t actually done any damage and ended up being more of a warning, but by the time Arthur was outfitted and had ordered the knights and guards to do the same, the attacking army had managed to breach Camelot’s main gate. 

Luckily the castle and its keep are better fortified, and even with the mass of bodies from the citizens who have managed to make it inside the gates before they’d been closed, there is still more than enough space for a large portion of Arthur’s army to gather in wait.

In wait for the inevitable moment when the enemies made it through to the castle. 

And though Arthur wishes he was out there with the main bulk of his men fighting in the town and pushing the enemy back, Leon and the others have made it clear what their position was.

“We’re losing, Arthur.” His old friend had said, voice steady even as his eyes kept glancing out the castle walls to the sounds from the streets. “Our men can meet the brunt of the initial attack, but we need our king here, in the walls, so that you can lead us through the final assault. We’ll need fresh men and fresh strength, and we’ll need our leader to fight with us to give us courage. You’re not a prince anymore, and you have no heir. Your duty is to stay within the walls until we have no choice.”

Arthur hadn’t liked it, but it was obvious that Leon was right. There hadn’t been time to argue, anyway.

So there he’d stood, at the head of his reserves alongside Percy, Elyan, Lance, Gwaine and Leon, waiting for the crash of the doors and the rush of the enemy to come, when all of a sudden the horns had sounded and Cenred’s army seemed to give up.

Arthur shares the look with Leon, sees his friend’s nod, and then looks up at the master of archers on the ramparts.

“Status?”

Henry turns back to him with wide-eyes. “It’s a retreat, my lord! They’re leaving!” His relieved laugh makes Arthur drop his sword arm to hang by his side. “They’re really leaving!”

He frowns, removing his helmet and handing it to a nearby paige. 

“Leon,” he turns to meet his friend’s eyes. “Send out a runner to see the state of the lower town and others to ask any witnesses what could have made the enemy turn. Another should go out of the walls to see what Cenred and Morgana are doing. They can use the passage- you know the one.”

He’d had all the secret tunnels from the castle guarded because he knows Morgana might have shared their existence with her new friends and used them to try and breach the castle walls. Luckily that hasn’t seemed necessary, as Cenred’s men have stuck to the known gates and doors.

Arthur had expected more, somehow. Even though they’d been caught off guard he’d expected Morgana herself to lead an attack, or to at least sneak in with some allies to open the gates and wreak havoc from inside. It seemed like something she would do.

Instead it appears she is content to stand back and watch as others died for her. 

It is right after Arthur gives the orders to Leon, who goes to dispatch the runners, that the biggest fireball yet appears in the sky.

This time headed straight for the castle.

“Take cover!” Arthur yells at the top of his lungs, but there is too many people and with a gasp he suddenly remembers that the castle is packed full of hiding Camelot citizens.

The men around him throw themselves down and duck behind what cover they can find, but the reminder of Arthur’s people, trapped inside the castle, roots him to the ground. As he watches the fireball seems to crash through the invisible shield over the city as if it isn’t even there, a slight shimmering the only hint at it disappearing, and then the flames blast straight into the roof of the castle throne room and council chamber.

Gods, the people that are in there-

Sparks fly, the roof collapses as if it is made of straw, and the sound it makes is enough to deafen everyone momentarily. As Arthur’s ears ring he sees parts of the castle walls crumbling and falling to the courtyard, sees debris fly, some huge chunks of rock and gargoyle heads coming right towards him and his men-

It is then that two bodies throw themselves at him and Arthur is forced to the ground as they lie over top of him.

From the weight and feel of them he knows immediately who it is. Percy is unmistakable, and only Gwaine has hair long enough to get into Arthur’s mouth as he opens it to yell at them.

“Didn’t think you were suicidal, princess,” his dark-haired friend grunts and it is then that Arthur realizes the ringing in his ears has disappeared.

“Get off!” He yells, pushing back, but Percival’s grip only tightens.

“Don’t be stupid Arthur,” he says and Gwaine finally lifts his head to take in everything around them.

“No, Perce, it’s okay now. Let him up.”

Arthur moves before they can help, surging to his feet, and when he looks up he feels his face blanch.

He and Gwaine certainly have different ideas of _okay_.

Because the castle- the castle is on fire, smoke blowing up and out of the hole in the roof and the smashed windows quicker than the strongest fire Arthur has ever seen. Screams come from its halls and flames lick up the stone walls, trying to find purchase.

Gods, he staggers, falling into Lance who steadies him instinctively, meeting Arthur’s eyes in time for the king to see a look of horrified realization cross his face.

“Gwen,” is all he said, and then Lance was letting go of him to run into the castle.

Gwen. Gods, Lance is right, and Arthur takes off after him, throwing off the hands that try to pull him back, ignoring the still falling dust and debris around him. And not only Gwen, but Gaius too, and all of the other people in there, the servants, the townspeople. Arthur’s citizens. His responsibility.

He hears Gwaine groan behind him, hears Percy curse, but both of their footsteps can be heard behind him as he bounds up the steps and into the castle.

When his other men see him heading in they quickly follow, and soon people are splitting off to check every corridor and hallway with shouted instructions to set up a healing post in the square and help any wounded first.

The first place Arthur goes is the large antechamber on the main floor, right beneath the throne room. That is where Gaius has set up a space full of provisions he’d need for medical attention to the wounded, and it will be where both he and Gwen are.

But it was right below the throne room and that means- it was possible…

Merlin will never forgive you, a voice hisses in Arthur’s head and he squeezes his eyes shut momentarily as he runs.

The scene he arrives upon was madness. 

There are flames, but there is also a mad hustle of people throwing buckets of water and carrying out the wounded while trying to fortify the weakened ceiling that now has a hole blasted through it. Arthur looks up and saw flames covering the throne room and then smoke and sky beyond.

The issue, Arthur thinks as he searches the crowd of faces for his friends, is that though the palace has a well, it will be impossible for them to put out a fire of this size. They have water stored in barrels for this very reason, and yet he doubts even that will be enough for this.

Fires are dangerous things, and though Arthur had hoped perhaps with the stone it would lose fuel and die out itself, it seems it has managed to find every tapestry and curtain in the place before taking hold of the numerous wooden furniture, the tables, the chairs…

He wondered if it is burning the throne.

He turns to Percy and Gwaine. “We need to put this out.”

Gwaine looks at him warily. “Arthur-”

“We cannot lose the palace!” He yells. “Help others get out if they need you to, otherwise we try and put out this blaze. Percy, grab several men and do what you can to get all the water you can here. Gwaine find anyone you can and get them out-”

“Arthur!” 

Relief makes him let loose a breath as he spins and sees Gaius. “Thank the gods, I’d begun to fear the worst.”

“So was I.” Gaius meets his eyes. “I’ll do what I can for the wounded, but Arthur this fire needs to be dealt with.”

He swallows. “I know. I’m trying but-”

But it’s not enough. There’s nothing more I can do. 

It’s too late.

Gaius nods. “Then we do what we can. Be careful.” 

“You too. Get out of the castle, I’m moving you onto the square.” He hesitates. “How bad are the casualties?”

The old man hesitates only for a moment. “We won’t know for sure until everything has calmed down. But I think it’s better than I feared.” He nods to himself then. “The square will work.”

Relief sweeps through Arthur as he claps Gaius one last time on the shoulder before the physician turns and relays his instructions to the two nearby helpers. As he does that Arthur looks around once more, glad to see Lance supporting a stumbling Gwen up the hallway towards them all.

“Arthur!” She exclaims in relief. “Thank gods, I was worried-”

“Me too.” He exhales and gives them a small smile. “You’re alright?”

“We are, but Arthur, this fire-”

“We’re working on it,” he replies, just as Percy appears with six other men carrying one of the huge barrel stores of water in the palace. “There we go.”

“Move!” The large knight yells at them and the room quickly clears just as the men enter it to let the casket fall. 

Gaius and the others hustle to get out of the castle but Arthur watches with Lance and Gwen as the water rushes out onto the stone floor, dousing the rugs which have begun to lick with flames on the far edge. Then Percy and the others heave the barrel up again to throw water on the places where the fire is worst.

It barely makes a dent.

“It’s not enough,” Lance murmurs just as Arthur thinks the same and he feels his last shred of hope disappear.

And it is then that Leon shows up. 

“Leon!”

“Arthur,” his friend calls in relief, breathing hard. The king wonders how many places he had checked before finding him, and how far he had run. Leon’s relief quickly transforms into frustration. “Sire, what are you doing here? You need to get out, go to safety.”

“He’s right Arthur,” Gwen turns to him before he can fight it. “This fire is too much. It started too unnaturally and spread too fast. We have no choice but to let it die out itself.”

Percy and the men back out quickly, leaving the empty wooden container behind them. 

“Come on, Arthur.” Leon says, and Arthur swallows, knowing he was right.

“Is everybody else out?”

Leon nods. “I spoke to Gwaine. He said the castle is clear.”

He nods back. “Then we go. Quickly.”

Leon falls into step beside him as they hurry out. “Sire.”

Arthur doesn’t like that tone. “Please don’t tell me the retreat was a ploy and they’re about to attack again, Leon, I really don’t know if I can take it.”

“No.” The other man still sounds odd. “The retreat appears genuine. Their sorcerers were killed and Morgause and Morgana suffered heavy injuries, causing Cenred to retreat.”

Arthur frowns. “Did our men get far enough to engage with them directly?”

“That’s the thing,” Leon shoots him a look that makes Arthur slow his steps, giving him his full attention, before his friend grabs his arm to pull him along faster again. “The runners returned and I spoke to a few of the men who’d been fighting at the lower town gates.”

“And?”

“And the witnesses all agree. It was one man who made it out past the gates from Camelot, and one man who confronted them all.”

Before Leon even says it, Arthur feels his heart begin to race faster than it already was, the suspicion forming. “Who was this man?”

Leon swallows. “I got descriptions from them all, but one of the witnesses said he recognized who it was. He’d used to be a squire to Uther years ago, was often in the palace, and he said…”

“Leon.”

“He said it was Merlin, my lord. That Merlin stopped them with magic.”

It’s said just as Arthur walks out onto the steps leading from the palace to the square, just as the king gazes out at the crowd of people in front of him, searching for the face he desperately wants to be there. 

Right as the name reaches his ears, Arthur is surprised to find the man who belongs to it.

Merlin. There he is, standing amongst the crowd on the opposite side of the square, right in front of the doors, taking in the damage in front of him.

As if he feels the weight of Arthur’s gaze on him, he looks up and their eyes meet.

And it’s like a punch to the gut and the most comforting hug all at once to Arthur who stops dead at the sight of those blue eyes staring back at him. Of that face, years older now than he last remembered, but still, unmistakably and beautifully, Merlin’s. 

He watches as Merlin’s lips part, mirroring his own expression, as something so heart-achingly _tender_ and _relieved_ shows on his face for everybody to see; but nobody is looking but Arthur.

“Merlin,” he says.

“Yes, sire,” Leon’s response makes Arthur jump and glance over, confused, before remembering their conversation from seconds before.

Immediately he looks back, trying to find that raven hair and those blue eyes, but Merlin’s gone from where he’d stood. Arthur sucks in a breath, denial and desperation a heady cocktail that surges in him, before he’s pushing his way forward, ignoring Leon and the others as he surges through the crowd. He shoves through as kindly as he can, desperate to get to where he saw Merlin. Only when he’s halfway there he’s blocked by a group of families huddling together.

“Excuse me, please, out of the way, look, would you please move,” his voice rises as he keeps speaking and he looks up again only to be arrested by the glimpse of Merlin he gets.

He’s moved to a hidden alcove in the wall, managing to avoid the bustle of the people in front of him and to escape attention (as he’s always been so good at doing) but Arthur sees him anyway. He watches as Merlin tilts his head back and closes his eyes before raising his hands and speaking words that Arthur can’t hear. It must last seconds, and people are bound to see, Arthur thinks wildly, but nobody gets in the way or interrupts him, and Arthur watches as Merlin finishes his spell just as a loud clap of thunder sounds above them.

It’s instinct to look and he does, lifting his face to the sky just in time to see dark stormclouds roll in far too fast to be natural. The rain they’d had earlier had passed during the attack, but now it was brought back over Camelot in moments, the clouds darker and heavier than before. Lightning flickers a moment later, somebody screams, and rain pelts down on them all in seconds from the sky.

Arthur looks back to where Merlin stands in time to see his golden eyes turn back to blue. 

“Merlin!” He calls out, trying to be heard over the sudden volume of the rain, thunder and people between them, and somehow he thinks Merlin hears because his eyes meet Arthur’s, against all odds once more.

But then Leon and Gwaine are there, pulling him around to shout in his face and demand to know what the hell he thought he was doing, where he was running off to? And though Arthur twists back desperately to try and find Merlin again, he’s met with nothing but empty space once more, and this time he knows Merlin is gone for good.

He searches until Gwaine shakes him again, his hair already plastered to his wet skin from how fast the rain is coming down, and it’s only then that Arthur realizes just what the storm is for.

Turning quickly from looking for Merlin he moves his gaze to the castle and yes, he thinks, watching in wonder. It’s barely noticeable now but the flames are no longer growing and soon, if this storm lasts the night and perhaps into tomorrow, the fire might be out entirely.

Arthur actually laughs, causing his friends to look at him in alarm, but he doesn’t care. Because not only does he have Merlin to thank for getting Cenred to sound the retreat, he now also owes him for saving Arthur’s home.

* * *

They’d saved Camelot.

Morgana and Morgause are deep in hiding. Cenred has been attacked and killed by group of bandits led by a man named Robin Wood and now his kingdom is either poised to be taken over by one of the many squabbling nobles vying for the title of king, or absorbed by a neighbouring state.

According to Gwaine, Arthur is seriously considering it. Merlin had hoped he would.

The city is battered but not horribly so. And even the castle’s damage is better than anyone had hoped. Rebuilding is already well under way and Lance doesn’t think it would take longer than the month with everyone chipping in to help. Arthur opening the palace to fleeing townsfolk has endeared him to them even more and he has more volunteers than he could have hoped for since harvest is done and winter is about to set in.

Camelot’s citizens say it was the gods who’d sent the rain, as proof that Arthur is the rightful ruler of Camelot. They say it is a sign he was chosen, sent to lead them all into a new golden age.

They are mostly right. It just isn’t the gods who’ve chosen Arthur, but Merlin.

The first days and weeks are filled with long grueling hours of rebuilding and recovery. Merlin helps anyone he can, disguised once more as Dragoon, but he studiously avoids the castle and anywhere Arthur might be. There’d been a brief instant, one where he’d seen Arthur run out of the burning castle and been overwhelmed with relief that he was alive and okay, an instant where he’d been sure Arthur had seen him.

The king had run into the crowd, for gods’ sakes.

“We asked him,” Gwaine had answered his question with a shrug. “He never gave us an answer.”

Merlin is sure he’d been seen, and he was sure Arthur knows it was him. 

So why hasn’t he talked to anyone about it? Or issued orders for Merlin’s arrest, or even an investigation? This is Arthur, a man who can’t leave a puzzle unsolved or question like this unanswered. 

Merlin tries to convince himself he’s made it up, that his own secret hope has clouded his judgement, but he knows that is all lies. Arthur had seen him. He’d seen him and tried to run to him and Merlin had hid, showing himself for the coward he knows he is when it comes to this. 

What if Arthur had been angry? Or suspected his reappearance had something to do with Morgana? What if he accused Merlin of being her ally and coming to spy or hurt Camelot further?

It would crush him to hear that.

So he’d hid, moved out of the way as best he could in the square and quickly summoned the storm, not even trying to dampen the spell because honestly the bigger the storm the better, to put that fire out.

He may have misjudged when the rain lasted two days straight, but then again, the harvest was already in and this was Britain. It rains here all the time.

So they’ve all been dealing with the fallout. An attack like that isn’t easy to come back from, even when the casualties are low (despite a huge number of wounded). And Merlin is also tormented with whether or not Arthur saw him and, even more pressing, what to do about Mordred.

He’d been strangely absent that day, from what Merlin had seen, but Gwen said the Druid had been with a girl he loved namd Kara, helping members of the town and fighting where Merlin hadn’t seen. They’d been cornered while protecting a family in their home, Gwen said, and only the retreat sounding had saved them.

Merlin doesn’t know if that is true, but he thinks it awfully convenient that Mordred missed the worst of the battle and the subsequent fallout.

But even he has to admit that the wounds and fractured arm do seem real when he glimpses the Druid riding through town one day with some other knights.

He keeps an eye out and keeps pressing the others for information. He meets with Gaius regularly now, and it’s reassuring to see him in good health and to get his opinions and advice on what to do. 

Soon a month has passed, and then two, and nothing else of note happens. Merlin doesn’t relax, not again, not when doing so cost them all so much last time, but he does allow himself to believe they might have a bit more time before the next disaster comes their way.

And then Gwen and Lance show up at his door one day.

It’s not that which is unusual. It’s the looks on their faces as they sink into the chairs at his kitchen table, both of them beaming but trying to hide it, nudging each other as smiles spill over from their lips.

“Merlin,” Lance says and then immediately looks away as if he’s been caught stealing sweets.

Merlin waits. 

Gwen takes over. “We have- something’s happened, something that we want to tell you.”

Usually those words would make Merlin panic but he sees he looks on their faces, hears the bubbling joy in their voices and sees the excited way they’re sitting in his chairs and he knows whatever they’re about to say, the two of them are over the moon about.

“And?” He prompts, making Lance square his shoulders and sit straight, his crisp blue shirt stretching across his chest nicely.

“The thing is, Gwen and I…”

Merlin blames his impatience on his old age from the spell. “Well?”

“We’re getting married!” Gwen blurts out and they both burst into identical smiles. “Oh, Merlin, can you believe it?” She looks over at Lance. “We’re actually going to get married.”

Merlin blinks. That was the absolute last thing he’d expected them to say. “What?”

Lance looks at him bashfully. “I just thought.. Well, what with the attack and everything, it reminded me that the time we have now is precious. And I tried to think of a good reason to wait, since we both love each other and neither of us are hiding anything, and I just… I couldn’t.”

“He couldn’t.” Gwen repeats as if Merlin hasn’t heard Lance. “So he brought it up and Merlin, you should have seen me, I didn’t even let him get two sentences out before I beat him to it and asked him myself!”

Lance looks at her adoringly. “And I knew better than to say no. Only a fool would do that.”

“Wow.” Merlin says. And then repeats. “Wow. I- I am so happy for you two.”

And then they’re all getting up and they’re hugging, and at least one of them is crying and it might be Merlin but neither of his friends call him on it, which he appreciates because-

-it’s just been so long since he’s had any _good_ news like this. Any normal good news that wasn’t ‘only a few rooms in the palace burned’ or ‘none of your friends was mortally injured in the attack on Camelot’ or ‘Arthur hasn’t sent an armed militia to root you out yet’. 

But this is amazing. It’s incredible, and it is just so right that Merlin suddenly wonders why it hasn’t happened sooner. Everyone knows Lance and Gwen are meant to be together and Merlin feels silly for not encouraging them both to get to it earlier.

“We’re not sure when we’ll get around to it, what with everything, but we’re hoping soon. And Merlin,” Gwen reaches across the table to take his hand. “We really want you to be there.”

“Of course I will be, why wouldn’t I-” But reality crashes into him forcefully, making him cut himself off. 

He can’t. There’s no way, not when he knows Arthur will be there (and Arthur would never miss the wedding of two of his best friends, not a chance) and Merlin is meant to be far, far away from Camelot.

“Oh.” He says dumbly, any other words fleeing his brain.

“Merlin,” Lance breaks in seriously. “Would it really be so bad if Arthur knew you were here? You said yourself you thought he saw you the day of the attack.”

Merlin swallows. “It might have been my imagination.”

Lance doesn’t look like he believes him but he doesn’t push. “Even so, with everything that’s happened I know he wouldn’t send you away again. In fact, he’d probably welcome you home with-”

“Lance. Please.” Merlin looks at his hand in Gwen’s. “I could go like this?”

“Arthur knows who Dragoon is, Merlin.” Gwen replies gently.

Right.

Right. Last time Arthur had seen him- because that day of the attack was a fluke, a figment of Merlin’s imagination- he had been Dragoon. And it would be strange for Gwen and Lance to invite the odd old man to their wedding.

He takes a deep breath. “Well maybe I can think of something else. Or you can just come here after and-”

“We want you there as you. As Merlin.” Gwen’s dark eyes hold his. “Please Merlin, you’re one of our best friends and we love you. We want our loved ones there when we get married.”

Merlin feels his throat tighten because he wants that too. Now suddenly, more than anything, he wants to be able to go to the wedding of two of his best friends as himself, surrounded by his old friends. 

Could he though? Is he really brave enough to reveal himself to Arthur? More importantly, is Arthur really able to forgive him and allow him to stay here again?

It has to happen eventually, Merlin thinks hopefully. He can’t live like this forever, it has grated on him since the beginning. The plan had always been to reveal himself eventually, it’s just…

He’s scared. 

“Okay,” he says, but it’s barely a whisper so he clears his throat and tries again. “Okay. Yes. By the time of your wedding I’ll have seen Arthur and told him I’m back, and I’ll make sure to be there for you two.” He swallows. “I promise.”

Lance’s eyes shine. Gwen lets out a happy noise and Merlin feels a weight lift from his shoulders and chest. 

“Oh Merlin, thank you.” Gwen gushes, hands flying to clasp at her chest. “We’ll be there with you, I swear, you won’t have to do it alone.”

“Thanks Gwen.” Merlin smiles weakly at her as Lance nods.

“You won’t need us there though,” the knight says confidently. “Arthur will be happy you’re back. I know it.”

“At least one of us does,” Merlin jokes, wishing he felt as comforted as he is pretending. Luckily Lance and Gwen don’t seem to notice, or if they do they are kind enough not to say anything about it.

“Enough about that.” Merlin pushes on bravely. “Tell me what you have planned so far.”

That distracts them quite nicely for a while. But when he goes to sleep that night Merlin tries not to feel like he is slowly running out of time.

* * *

Arthur is having lunch alone when Gwaine appears and gives him the news about Kara.

“I’m sorry Arthur,” and Gwaine does truly look upset by what he’s telling him. “She was spotted riding out into the woods to meet with a known contact of Morgana’s. And we have proof she’s been corresponding with her as she spied on us all.”

Arthur is so tired.

He understands, suddenly, how his father had become so hardened and paranoid. Is this what it means to rule? To never be able to trust anyone new, always expecting the next betrayal to come from the people he loves? And yes, Arthur doesn’t know Kara well, has likely only spoken a few words to her once when he’d run into her and Mordred together on the castle grounds, but nevertheless. 

When would it stop? What could he do to make all of the lies and deceit end?

But he is careful to hide that from Gwaine as he takes in what he is saying. Mordred’s lover, a traitor. An enemy of Camelot.

He trusted Gwaine’s word but the proof would perhaps help Mordred accept this as well. Because if not…

Arthur doesn’t want to lose another person he cares about. The question strikes him suddenly.

“What made you suspicious in the first place?” 

Gwaine shifts. “I was warned to keep an eye on Mordred, and by extension those close to him.”

The response makes Arthur frown, and raises even more questions than before. “Warned by who?”

Gwaine’s mouth purses as he looks away and Arthur is suddenly sure that whatever words come next, Gwaine is about to hide something from him. “Nobody. A friend of mine.”

“I didn’t realize you had any friends I didn’t know about.”

Gwaine’s chuckle is forced as he slugs Arthur on the shoulder. Arthur knows him well enough to tell the difference between his real and fake laughter.

And to be wary of the way Gwaine seems unable to look at him.

“‘Course I do, don’t be ridiculous. I have a life outside this castle, princess.”

“Of that I am well aware,” Arthur wrinkles his nose at the thought of Gwaine’s well-known past exploits in the tavern. Though thankfully Percy’s influence seems to be decreasing their frequency.

His mood sours again as he sighs and pushes his plate away, appetite gone. This is the last thing he needs to deal with right now, on top of everything else. The castle is still under repair, people are still healing from the attack and they are scared of the retribution that will surely follow. 

Arthur wishes he didn’t feel like he had to do all of this _alone_. He has so many doubts about the huge life-altering decisions he is responsible for and nobody he feels he can share the weight of that burden with.

“Bring Kara to the throne room. Gather the others- including Mordred. Hopefully if he sees it with his own eyes it will make forsaking her easier for him.”

Gwaine doesn’t look happy but he doesn’t argue before he nods and turns to leave.

“And be careful.” He bites the inside of his cheek. “She and Mordred both have magic.”

“Right.” Gwaine says after a pause. “See you in a bit then.”

Arthur sighs again after Gwaine leaves before getting up. He will need his cloak and armor for this, in case it turns nasty.

He hopes with everything he has that it won’t.

* * *

It does. 

Things just seem to happen at once after that. Kara refuses to admit her treachery and own up to her mistakes, even refusing Arthur’s offer of forgiveness if she only pleaded mercy and agreed to leave Camelot. After her throwing the offer back in his face in front of the court he has no choice but to sentence her to death as an enemy of the state. Mordred is devastated, but even the sight of his friend begging on his knees for Kara’s life can’t convince Arthur that he is doing the wrong thing. Not when he’s seen the hatred and defiance in Kara’s eyes as she’d been taken down to the dungeons.

Gods, he wishes- he wishes Merlin was here. Just so he could talk to him and see what he thought of all of this. When Arthur had offered Kara her life in exchange for her pleading guilty and agreeing to his terms, he’d done it with the thought of Merlin in his mind. 

Merlin had always stood up for those weaker than them and preferred mercy to cold justice. Besides, Kara was a magic user attacking the ruler of a nation where her people had been persecuted almost her entire life. Arthur can’t exactly pretend not to feel a smidgeon of sympathy for her, not when he’s gone through the agony of having to send Merlin away for his own protection while Uther had still been alive. 

At least Merlin is still alive, hopefully. Arthur refuses to believe otherwise. At least Merlin is out there, somewhere, and the chance of Arthur seeing him again is there, slim as it might be. What about the friends and family of those Uther, and by association Arthur, have allowed to die? Where is their hope?

He feels for Kara, but she’s attacked Arthur’s home, endangering his people to Morgana who had given up caring about Camelot’s citizens long ago. And Arthur hurts for Mordred, even feeling a kinship with him a bit, but he can’t change his mind. Not without putting them all at risk by letting Kara go.

He thinks that even if Merlin was there his friend would agree with him. Because Merlin might care about people’s motivations and be willing to forgive certain mistakes, but he’s always taken threats to Camelot seriously. Especially when those threats included Arthur.

So his ruling holds. Kara is thrown in jail, Mordred’s pleas are denied, and Arthur has to carry the weight of his friend’s pain every waking moment.

But then Mordred is caught trying to help Kara escape and from there… it all happens so quickly. Leon and Gwaine put him in a cell under Arthur’s heavy gaze and Mordred looks at him in betrayal.

“Please,” the young man says, and Arthur’s heart twists. “Please don’t do this. If you’ve ever considered me a friend, don’t hurt her.”

“You are my friend,” Arthur replies through the bars, arms crossed, feeling the empty space beside him more keenly than ever. “But she’s left me no choice, Mordred, you must see that?”

It’s not really a question but he waits for an answer anyway. 

Mordred’s eyes flash. “I love her, Arthur.”

He gentles his voice. “I know you do. And I’m sorry for this, but she’s dangerous. To all of us.”

“She doesn’t deserve this.”

And that’s where they disagree.

“It will be over soon.”

It’s all he can think of to say but he knows from the cold way Mordred’s expression shuts down that it is the wrong thing. He hears Leon shift anxiously from where he stands at the door.

“I won’t stop trying to save her.”

Arthur swallows. “You must.”

But Mordred only shakes his head, looking bitter. “Would you? If it was the person you loved?”

Arthur can’t reply. Because he knows the answer. 

And Mordred does too.

“You’ll have regular food and water.” He says instead, moving to leave. “And I’ll be back. After.”

Mordred doesn’t reply, but then again Arthur hadn’t really expected him to.

Kara is hanged the next day and that same day Mordred escapes the basement cells. 

A dark sense of foreboding circles Arthur’s heart as he stares out of his bedroom window after hearing the news, looking far into the distance as if he could spot anyone he’s looking for from so far away.

Merlin. Morgana. Mordred. 

Merlin, he knows, would never join Morgana, but Mordred… perhaps. The others had warned him of it before they’d left for the night and it hurts Arthur that he can’t deny the suggestion. The man has a grudge against him now, one borne of a broken heart.

Arthur knows better than anybody what the repercussions of that can be.

So he stares out of the window, watching the sunset and ignoring the knocks of the servant who brings him dinner, of the others who come wanting to start the fire and light the candles. 

Arthur looks outside, thinking all the while.

By the time he finally gives in and goes to bed he still hasn't come up with any answers.

* * *

By the time the sun begins to set the next day, Arthur is weary and aching, exhaustion setting in deep in his bones. The dead from Morgana’s attack have been buried earlier in the day and the city seems to now be cloaked in grief.

Without thinking, he finds himself heading for Gaius’ chambers. It’s pure habit made by years of the king trying to track down his manservant, muscle memory that only comes out when Arthur is truly tired. Instead of turning around and heading back towards his chambers, he decides that he’ll continue on to talk to the old physician. Talking to Gaius has become a sort of comfort as of late, and Arthur enjoys the man’s guidance.

He knocks at the door and Gaius opens it right away. He only takes one look at Arthur before gesturing him inside and heading towards his healing herbs. The king sees him begin to prepare a calming tea and walks over to the kitchen table to wait. The two men exist in silence for the tea to finish steeping, and Gaius hands it over to the king soon enough.

“Tell me what is on your mind, sire.”

Arthur lets out a deep sigh and lets out everything he’s been thinking in the past 48 hours. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. I was so confident in my decision to change the laws on magic but yet Camelot is still attacked by sorcerers. They killed so many people. Is this even the right thing to do now?”

Gaius looks troubled, but he ponders his answer for a moment. “Do you look at your knights any differently after the attack?”

Arthur’s not expecting this. “Uh- no? What do my knights have anything to do with this?”

“So Cenred’s knights attacking your kingdom does not make you look at Camelot’s knights any differently? Not at all?”

“No!” Arthur’s beginning to become defensive, “Gaius, what exactly is your _point_?”

“My point, sire, is that you don’t look at the men with swords any differently even though you were just attacked by men using swords, but you still continue to look at those who have and use magic as evil, just because you’ve been attacked by some people who have magic.”

Arthur opens his mouth and then closes it again. He’s… never thought of it that way before.

Gaius continues, “Magic has never been the problem, sire, evil intentions have been. I know it’s hard to look at magic as anything less than evil, given with how you’ve been raised, but you know as well as I do that magic does not make a person evil.”

Arthur sighs, “My father always told me that magic was evil. Gaius. Why was he so convinced of that, if it wasn’t even true?”

A conflicted look passes quickly across Gaius’ face, and he studies Arthur intently. “Are you sure you want me to answer that question?”

Arthur realizes that the answer is probably not going to be one that he’ll like, but he knows that it’s essential to learn. “Yes.”

“When you came back from visiting Nimueh all those years ago, intent on making your father pay for his wrongdoing… you were not wrong or injust in your anger. Nimueh never lied, and you very well might have spoken to your mother’s ghost. You were born of magic, Arthur.”

Emotion wells up in the king’s chest and he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Gaius continues.

“Magic, especially that which is powerful enough to create life, relies on balance. When you were born, the world was out of balance. A life had to be taken in return, and that life was your mother’s. Your father knew the risks, but went through with it anyway. He was so desperate for an heir, because a son would solidify his reign over Camelot. He didn’t want to appear weak, and he was embarrassed that he could not produce an heir quick enough. He let his emotions cloud his judgement, and it inevitably led to Ygraine’s death.”

“But Merlin said…”

“Merlin lied to protect you from yourself. He knew that killing your own father would only lead you down a path that would end nowhere good. He did it because he cared, not for any reason other than that.”

And that… that is more than Arthur wants to sort through while sitting here in front of Gaius. He pushes the information aside, intent on working through it later when he has the space, time and privacy to do so.

A sudden thought sparks in Arthur’s mind, “If my father was technically at fault, why would he kill all those people in the Great Purge? Surely he wouldn’t…” he trails off. 

Surely Uther wouldn’t have _what_? Let his pride get the best of him and take it out on innocents? Been clouded so much by his own grief that he blamed innocent people for something he, himself, committed?

Arthur knew his father well, and he knows that one or both of those scenarios could very well have been true.

“How many people were killed because of my father’s wounded ego? How many innocents? Women? _Children_ ?” Arthur’s aware that his voice has risen, angrier than he’s ever been before. He gets up abruptly and begins to pace, “Why would he do that? I just- Gaius I don’t _understand_.”

The old man casts him a look of sympathy, “I wish I knew, Arthur. I wish I knew the reasoning behind your father’s actions. He was a man so proud, so caught up in his victories; he never admitted when he was wrong. Perhaps he was convinced that he actually was saving the kingdom from magic, or perhaps he was so caught up in his own lies that he actually started believing them. I was never sure of his true motives.”

Arthur has stopped pacing by now and is standing in front of Gaius with his one arm crossed, while the other cradles his head. He looks up at Gaius to find the man looking deeply regretful and a little lost in thought.

“How do I make this right?”

Gaius shakes himself out of whatever thoughts he’d been distracted by, “Change the law. Make sure that every magic user feels safe in this kingdom. You’ve already done well by focusing less on hunting sorcerers and banning public burnings, but it’s not enough. Actual laws need to be changed.”

Arthur finally sits back down in front of Gaius, “Okay, I’m going to need your help with this.”

* * *

They know another attack is coming and this time Arthur doesn’t think they’ll get off so lucky.

Cenred’s retreat was a fluke, and the minimal damage (damage they were still recovering from, however) was pure chance. Whatever- or whoever, if the reports were to be believed, though Arthur still couldn’t fully believe it had been Merlin. Surely it was his own mind playing tricks on him, making him see things that weren’t there- but whatever had saved them last time… well Arthur wasn’t confident enough to hope the same could happen again.

Arthur knows Morgana, and he knows that she won’t give up a second time. This fight will be the last between them.

He just doesn’t know if he can do it.

It feels like they’re repeating themselves, standing around the round table, drawing up battle plans and counter attack strategies. It’s a sharp reminder of months ago and Arthur won’t soon forget how caught off guard they were then. He’d never felt so at a disadvantage in his life and he can’t say he relished the feeling.

Gwaine tries to joke, Percy keeps him in check, Elyan and Lance are always at Arthur’s side, stalwart and steady, but he still finds himself unsettled.

He meets Leon’s eyes across the table and sees that his old friend picks up on his exhaustion.

“We can think on it further, sire, but I think we’ve suggested all we can for now.” 

The swell of gratefulness he feels surprised him but Arthur hides it well as he nods at Leon before scanning the others at the table. He ignores the empty seat at his right. 

“I think you’re right. You’re all dismissed but I want us back here first thing after lunch.”

Gwen leaves with Gaius and Elyan, shooting Arthur a warm smile that he tries to return. Gwaine and Percy trickle out with Lance rolling his eyes at them behind their backs.

Only Leon stays, coming around to fall beside Arthur in Gwen’s vacated chair. “You’re losing focus.”

“I’m not.” He argues only to catch Leon’s skeptical gaze. “Really. I’m just…”

Leon purses his lips, concerned. “What?”

Arthur sighs, rubbing the bridge of his eyebrows. “I’m not distracted. It’s more than that.”

Leon is quiet a long time. “You’re losing motivation.”

His head snaps up to stare at him in shock. “What? No, never.”

“You are.” Leon holds up a hand. “Not about fighting for Camelot. I mean for fighting Morgana.”

And Arthur can’t argue that. Even now despite everything that has happened he still remembers the Morgana from his childhood. The woman who he’d grown up with, the only other person in the world to understand what it was like being raised by Uther, constantly craving his attention and pride even while doubting whether the old king was a good man to want those things from.

When he thinks about what it might take, striking Morgana that fatal blow, Arthur finds he can’t picture it. He doesn’t think he’ll be able.

But he can’t tell Leon that. Morgana is Camelot’s biggest enemy and needs to be stopped. Arthur knows that and he knows it’s what Leon would say. 

So he takes a different approach.

“Mordred joined her.”

Leon raises an eyebrow. “So?”

“So… maybe she’s not entirely crazy. Listen, it was hard to believe Morgana would do any of this out of pure jealousy and spite in the first place, but Mordred too? Would he really ally with Morgana because he hated me? Would he punish all of Camelot for a grudge against me?”

Leon’s gaze is heavy. “Yes, Arthur, I believe he would.”

“But how?” He asks in anguish. “It doesn’t make sense, there’s no logic to that, just cruelty.”

“Heartbreak isn’t rational. You know that.”

That stops Arthur short and as he looks at Leon he feels the understanding and kinship that comes with years of knowing somebody. He’d seen Leon fawn over Morgana when they were all teenagers, watched as he climbed through the knight’s ranks faster than anyone thought possible, just to try and get Uther’s approval so there could be a hope, a chance, that he would be deemed good enough for his ward.

Morgana had playfully encouraged it in the past but Arthur had always thought her heart lay elsewhere. And now-

-well. Now it is all hopeless anyway. Leon would never join Morgana against Camelot and though they’d tried, Morgana couldn’t be reasoned with to change her mind. 

But Arthur understands when nobody else could that Leon knows what he is talking about.

“They’re heartbroken.” His friend repeats. “For different reasons, but still, that makes all logic fly out of the window. All they want is to heal themselves by taking what others love in the hope they’ll be able to love it too.”

Arthur closes his eyes, feeling the truth of the words ring deep inside him.

“Leon, I just don’t know what to do. Morgana was the only family I had left, and now she’s lost to me- to everyone. I feel so… hopeless. She has so much anger, and she is powerful beyond anyone I have seen before. How do I fight my _sister_?”

A complicated expression crosses the knight’s face, but before he can reply, the doors behind him swing open.

“She is not more powerful than me."


	9. won't be alone again

_ Merlin _ .

Gods, it is. It’s Merlin, looking barely a day older than when he left, striding into Arthur’s council room as if he was never gone, as if he belongs here, easy as anything, and Arthur’s chest tightens, suddenly it’s like he can’t breathe and-

-and it’s Merlin and he’s here. He’s actually here, back in front of Arthur. It’s real, it’s not a dream or his imagination, not this time. And Arthur knows there’s a million things he should say, a thousand things he needs to ask, but all he can think right now is that _ Merlin came back _ to him.

He came back. Where everyone else who has betrayed Arthur is gone and gone for good, here Merlin is, trepidation in his eyes as he looks from a now-standing Leon to settle his attention on Arthur. 

He watches as his old friend pushes his shoulders back, straightening them, as something steel-like shines from his face. As if he is ready for an argument; and more than that, ready to win it.

He’s still wearing Arthur’s clothes, Arthur can’t help but notice. All mismatching bright colours (colours too expensive for someone like Merlin to own, except when Arthur gave him some of his old cast offs, or Gaius unearthed them from somewhere in Merlin’s earliest days here) and one of those damn neckerchiefs, purple today, that makes Arthur’s breath hitch all over again from the sheer amount of memories that it evokes.

Gods. Merlin. Here.

Arthur can’t speak. 

Finally Merlin breaks the startled silence, tearing his eyes away from Arthur. “Hi Leon.”

And he doesn’t know what does it: the fact that Merlin thinks he can just stride back in here _ like this _ , or the fact that Arthur is lightheaded and likely not thinking straight from lack of oxygen, or maybe it’s that Merlin had looked at him  _ like that _ before turning completely away, as if the sight of Arthur actually pains him, before ignoring him altogether to speak to Leon first after all this time. Arthur isn’t sure what rises in him so forcefully at that moment, but it’s strong enough to make his lips move before he can think about it.

“Aren’t you going to address your king first? That is protocol,  _ Mer _ lin.”

And gods, Arthur thinks as a shaky breath escapes him and Merlin turns to him with wide eyes, it just feels so  _ good  _ to use Merlin’s  _ name  _ again.

Merlin clears his throat, blinking past his obvious surprise, a small sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ve never been very good when it came to protocol. Sire.”

And Arthur? He can’t help it, he just- he smiles. 

Widely, brilliantly, an actual full smile stretching his face and using muscles that have forgotten what they are for because it has been years since he’s last smiled like this.

Merlin blinks again and that only makes Arthur’s smile last longer because- it’s just him, it’s Merlin, and Arthur has missed him  _ so much _ .

Leon clears his throat making both of them glance at him. “Um. Hi, Merlin.”

There’s something complicated on Leon’s face, in his voice, and Arthur knows that’s probably his fault. Because his best friend is smart, one of the sharpest men Arthur has, but he has purposely never told anybody what exactly Merlin did to make Arthur cut him out so suddenly. And rumours have flown of course, everything from a broken heart to an attempted assassination, but Leon isn’t some stable or kitchen hand. He knows them both, knows what they were like together, and Arthur knows he’s figured out most if not all of it. 

So obviously it makes sense for Leon’s hand to come and rest up on the pommel of his sword, for his eyes to flick to Arthur questioningly, as if waiting for the order to come, whether it be to defend him from his former manservant or to stand down. Because Merlin had been Leon’s friend, it was true, but Leon is loyal to Camelot, and thus to Arthur, before anything else. And if Arthur orders Leon to get between Merlin and himself then he has no doubt Leon would do it, whatever his personal feelings on the subject may be.

Poor Leon, Arthur thinks. He has so many questions that have been left unanswered for so long, Seeing the two of them back together now must be giving him whiplash, or at the very least a headache.

“Merlin,” Arthur begins then, knowing he needs to be the one to set the tone, to make it clear to Leon that while years have passed, this isn’t going to be a hostile welcome, but Merlin goes and blows that plan to ruins when he opens his big mouth.

“I know you probably want to kill me.” Merlin says. “But I’m here to help.”

And now it’s Arthur who blinks, caught off guard, and Leon who asks, “Help?”

Merlin nods, only glancing briefly at the knight, before looking back at Arthur. “I mean it. I- Morgana isn’t as powerful as I am. None of her allies are either. I can help you.”

Arthur swallows because whatever he’d expected with Merlin striding in here like this, even with his grand proclamation as the doors had flown open, it hadn’t been this. It hadn’t been war talk and defense, and ignoring everything that had happened between them the last time they’d been together. Of skipping over years of separation as if it is nothing. 

But his words make Leon look at Arthur wide-eyed, the final confirmation that Merlin is a sorcerer, one more powerful than even  _ Morgana _ , and Arthur knows he should just let all of their personal issues go to deal with later. This is Camelot and war they’re talking about, not some visiting noble party. They do need to plan, and cultivate allies, and do absolutely everything they can to rip away any advantage Morgana might have, and Merlin is here offering to help them with that. 

And yet he finds he can’t. Because yes they need to discuss all of that but Arthur- Arthur needs to talk to Merlin, really talk to him, about them, about everything that has happened. Before anything else, even before working out Camelot’s defenses, he needs clarity and closure and- 

He needs to apologize and tell Merlin he missed him, that the laws are changed, and to just say everything he’s planned on saying all these years they were separated; and he can’t do that with Leon here.

So he won’t, he decides. He’s the king, and even if that comes with more stress than it does perks, it does have the occasional bonus. One of which is that he can dismiss whoever he wants, whenever he wants, even if it’s for purely selfish reasons. Even if it’s just so that he and Merlin can be alone together.

“Leon,” Arthur says tightly, eyes never moving away from Merlin, even for a second. “Please.”

And luckily his oldest friend knows exactly what he’s asking, can read the things Arthur isn’t saying, and he nods, giving Merlin one last indiscernible look before he leaves them alone in the room. 

Arthur feels grateful enough that he makes a note to try and remember to reward Leon with something eventually. Whatever he wants; a vacation even- it’s not like he hasn’t earned it, as Captain of the Guard- but all of those thoughts are distant as Arthur just stares at the man left in front of him.

They probably waste too much time doing that, just looking at one another, taking each other in. Sure, it’s been years and Arthur’s been desperate for any whisper of Merlin he can get in that time, never mind actually having him here in the flesh, but it’s still a weak excuse for a king on the brink of war, he knows. 

He also sees the look on Merlin’s face, the myriad of nerves which turn into guilt, that morphs into determination, and he watches him open his mouth.

Arthur can’t help it. Because he knows that Merlin has questions, but dammit, so does he. Years worth that have piled up so high he wonders how he’ll ever get to the bottom of them all. 

That doesn’t stop him cutting Merlin off. Because he has a chance again, he has Merlin here, in front of him again, and Arthur has repeatedly promised himself since that day in the forest, that if this opportunity ever came to him again he would take it. That he wouldn’t waste it.

And now, standing in front of Merlin, he doesn’t intend to.

He just wishes someone had told his mouth that too, because the first question that escapes him sounds far more accusing than he intended.

* * *

“Why on  _ Earth _ would you come back here?”

Merlin tries not to cringe as the question flies from Arthur’s mouth. The king’s face is stoic, but his tone is nothing but incredulous frustration and Merlin can’t help the way he reacts; it’s pure conditioned instinct to get defensive.

“Don’t be a prat. Did you really think that I was going to leave Camelot?” He swallows, ready to confess everything about the prophecies, everything he hasn’t had a chance to explain last time they’d spoken. “Protecting you is my  _ destiny _ . Nothing could have made me leave, not even you.”

But Arthur’s response isn’t what he expects as the king looks startled. “You- stayed? Here? All this time?”

Still, Merlin rolls his eyes and huffs, exasperated. Apparently convincing the king of his loyalty is going to be a lot harder than he thought it would be.

“Of course I stayed.  _ Someone _ had to keep an eye on you and make sure you didn’t end up dead.” He clears his throat, feeling his nerves begin to settle. “But- no. I wasn’t here the entire time. I traveled and learned more about my powers and how to better control them. It was only once I met Morgana again - right after she left Camelot - that I knew I had to come back immediately.”

“So instead of following my direct orders you...what? You just waltzed right back into this kingdom without even a second thought?”

Merlin throws his hands up. “Of course I had a second thought! I doubted myself about a million times before I finally made it through those gates. Do you think I have  _ no _ self-preservation instincts?”

Arthur makes an aborted gesture towards where Merlin stands and then makes a show of looking around the room they’re standing in and- right. Merlin supposes coming to Camelot as a known sorcerer is probably not the best evidence of him being self-preserving.

“Oh, sod off it. You know exactly what I mean, you- you pompous  _ ass _ . Of course I thought about never coming back. I thought you would kill me if you knew I was here. Why do you think I  _ hid _ ?”

Suddenly Arthur goes stock still, all of the colour draining from his face.

“You actually thought I would have you killed?”

“Well it is the  _ law _ , so yes.”

“Was.” Arthur corrects almost absentmindedly. “It  _ was _ the law.”

“Don’t be pedantic about this, Arthur. The fact is that you made me leave the only home I had known in years because I have magic. You told me to never come back. What exactly did you expect me to think after all of that? That you would be jumping for joy at my return? That you wanted me back?”

“ _ Of course I wanted you back _ !”

The confession explodes out of Arthur and now it’s Merlin’s turn to grow still.

“If I had wanted you dead, you would be dead. I regretted my decision basically the minute I made it, but- it was too late. I couldn’t take it back. Besides, you had been lying to me all that time - and yes, I understand why now, but back then all I could see was the betrayal of it all and it felt like the only thing to do was make you leave. To make it all just  _ go away _ .

“But of course I wanted you back. Ask anyone and they’ll tell you what kind of right arse I’ve been since you left. Nothing feels right without you here. But then I would become angry all over again when I remembered everything, and I would withdraw from everyone again and I just- I missed you.”

Merlin knows that his mouth is hanging open but he cannot for the life of him think of any words to say in the face of Arthur’s confession.

“I- you-” he stutters out some words but nothing that makes any sense. He opens his mouth to try again. “You were the one who  _ made me leave _ , Arthur!”

The king lets out a decidedly un-royal snort. “Do you think I don’t know that? I just told you, I’ve regretted that decision ever since I made it.” 

When Merlin can do nothing but continue to stare in bewilderment he sees Arthur’s face soften to become almost warm. 

“Merlin. I don’t think you understand how hard it was for me to make it in the first place. I’m sorry I ever made you go, but please understand that I was so hurt and blindsided that I acted out of fear and anger.”

Confronted with that display of emotion Merlin can see how much Arthur means it. And he can see, or at least guess, at the things Arthur can’t say too. 

It makes Merlin sigh and any anger and frustration he feels drains away. “I know why you did it. And I forgive you. Sire.”

At the title Arthur rolls his eyes, “Please,  _ Mer _ lin, you’ve never been deferential towards me in your life; don’t start now.”

Relief floods the sorcerer’s veins. The teasing tone that Arthur always used to take with Merlin is back, reminiscent of how they used to be, and everything feels just a little bit better because of that.

“Look,” Merlin sighs, “I don’t want to fight about this anymore. At least not now. I’m just here to help you win this war against Morgana. Once that’s over, I will leave. I’ll even leave Camelot. For good, this time. Just let me stay here for now and  _ help _ . I can’t sit by and watch the people I love get hurt when I know I can do something to save you. Arthur-”

But instead of looking reassured or even annoyed, when Merlin looks up Arthur appears stricken. His face is pale, his lips parted in shock and his eyes- they bore into Merlin and the look in them makes him cut off abruptly, whatever he was about to say dying on his lips.

“You’re going to leave after this? After everything you’ve already done to stay in Camelot - against my orders, might I add - you’d just… leave? Again?”

Merlin throws his hands up “What else do you want me to do? It’s not like I don’t want to stay here, but you’re right, I was banished. I disobeyed direct orders and came back. So, once this is over, I’ll leave again. You won’t ever have to see me again or worry about having to trust me. I’ll be gone.”

“After all this- you still think I don’t trust you?”

“I’d assumed not, if I’m being perfectly honest. I haven’t done anything to regain your trust.”

“You didn’t do anything to  _ lose _ it either.”

Merlin splutters. 

“ _ Arthur _ .” He says, finally allowing a bit of the frustration to spill out where Arthur could see and hear it. “You held a sword to my throat. Magic still isn’t legal, although I know you’re trying to change that.” He takes a deep breath. “What am I meant to think? You never asked me to come back, I just did. All of our friends told me you can barely stand to hear my name, and when you spoke to me as Dragoon you said you wanted to know where I was to know that I wasn’t back here.”

Arthur is shaking his head as if none of that matters, as if those things aren’t what keeps Merlin up for hours at night, desperately wishing his entire life was different and that he could just… be back here, with Arthur. Back home where he wanted to be. 

But Arthur is acting like Merlin is ridiculous for thinking he isn’t wanted here, and Merlin can’t help it when his patience ebbs as the king says, “but that doesn’t mean-”.

“I’m a  _ sorcerer _ , Arthur, in case you’ve forgotten in the past couple minutes. I’m a sorcerer and I  _ lied _ to you about it for years. I kind of figured that you stopped trusting me after you found out.”

Arthur hesitates and Merlin sees it, the thing that flickers in those blue eyes before they harden in resolve, the torn look on his face. 

“Maybe- maybe at first. Just for a second. But I was more shocked than anything. And as time went on, I realized that I just felt hurt that you never told me, and that I acted out in anger in that forest. I- I’ve always trusted you. Even at my angriest, I would have trusted you with my life and the lives of my subjects.” He swallows. “You have always had my trust.”

Merlin gapes; because it’s one thing for Arthur to trust Merlin with his life, but it’s another for him to tell Merlin he trusts him with the thing most precious to him: the people of his kingdom.

Stupidly all he can think of to say in response is, “so… you don’t want me to leave?”

Arthur gives a fondly exasperated look, “No, I don’t. I don’t think I ever really wanted you gone. I was just… Angry.”

Merlin absolutely beams as what he’s saying fully sinks in. “So I can stay? I can come back home?”

And maybe it’s presumptuous, maybe it’s more than Arthur was offering, more than he’s ready for, but Merlin looks at his face and he doesn’t think so. He watches Arthur’s fond eye roll, the quirk of his lips, and he knows before the king even speaks what his answer will be.

“Obviously, Merlin. Who else is going to fix my meals and mend my clothes and ready my horse and armour and-”

Merlin just tunes him out and moves before he can think better of it, ignoring the fact that Arthur’s still talking, to go right up to him and envelop him in a hug. 

Because this is  _ Arthur _ . And despite the fact that he’s missed Gwen and Gaius, or Gwaine and the other knights, it’s Arthur he missed the most. It’s Arthur he thought of on those late nights, and over the years. Arthur who influenced every decision Merlin has made practically from the moment he became his manservant, whether the prat knows it or not. So Merlin just hugs him because he’s physically incapable of holding himself back anymore.

And Arthur doesn’t tense. He doesn’t flinch or push Merlin away. He just stops talking, cutting off instantly as Merlin’s hands fist in the back of his shirt and Merlin moves close, closer than the two of them have ever been outside of life-or-death situations, to press himself chest-to-chest against Arthur and hold tightly.

He’s not shaking, but he doesn’t feel steady either. There’s something rushing through his veins, a pounding in his ears that drowns out everything except their breathing, until Arthur responds a second later by putting his arms up around Merlin back and pulling him closer. 

After a few moments Arthur stiffens suddenly, though his hold doesn’t weaken. “Wait.  _ You  _ are Dragoon?”

And that’s all it takes. The thing in Merlin calms and settles and as they stand there just breathing against one another Merlin starts to laugh, and he hopes, for the first time in ages, that things might actually be okay.

So of course that’s when Leon bursts into the room, panting, making the two of them jump apart, before he says. 

“It’s Morgana. She’s here, with an army. And sire,” he swallows, looking at Arthur with unhappy eyes. “Mordred is with her.”

* * *

Morgana and her army loom on the edge of the forest but they don’t stop. As Arthur watches from the walls of Camelot the army continues to march forwards, growing larger and larger. A dark mass that leeches from the trees at a steady pace, as far as his eyes can see.

Merlin is ashen beside him and Leon looks almost pained.

Arthur fingers the hilt of his new sword nervously. Merlin had been wearing it when he’d arrived but Arthur hadn’t paid it much notice until, just before they’d left to come confront Morgana and her army, Merlin had drawn it out of it’s scabbard to give to Arthur.

“Here. Take this.”

Arthur had frowned, taking the sword to hold. The balance had been perfect, and the design beautiful. “What’s this? I already have a sword, you know that.”

“I know, but…” Merlin had hesitated before seeming to throw caution to the wind. “This sword is special. And it’s the only thing that can kill Morgana. If it comes to that.”

Which it will. 

They both thought it but didn’t say it. Arthur examined the sword again, wondering what special magic Merlin had infused it with.

“Alright.” They didn’t have time for the questions Arthur had wanted to ask and he trusted Merlin’s judgement.

So now Excalibur hangs at his hip, and he touches it nervously as he watches the numerous armed bodies come towards Camelot, with Merlin and Leon at his side.

His Captain had been right about Mordred being with her, because there they both are, riding at the head of the army side-by-side. Their black horses and clothing contrast sharply to their pale skin, and though their faces aren’t quite clear from this far away, the two of them are unmistakable to Arthur.

A realization dawns on him and he glances to Merlin at his side. “You were the friend who told Gwaine to watch Mordred.”

Merlin finally tears his gaze away from the newcomers to look at him. They haven’t spoken a word or done anything more than share loaded glances as they’d hurried out to the edge of the city. As soon as they’d climbed up to the ramparts Merlin had started muttering and Arthur had watched as his eyes changed to gold until the spell was done.

Leon had been the one to ask though. “What was that?”

“Fortifications. For the wards.” Merlin replied absently, eyes moving from one end of the army to the other. 

Taking in their numbers, Arthur realized, or looking for other sorcerers perhaps. 

When had Merlin become a strategist?

But that was unfair, Arthur knew. Merlin had never run from a fight, despite Arthur’s jokes suggesting otherwise, and he’d stood by Arthur’s side through innumerable meetings with his father for ruling and defending Camelot. He’d been at Arthur’s back in almost every battle since he’d arrived in the city. Merlin had more preparation for this than many of his best knights did.

And now that Arthur knows the other man can fight too, even if it is with magic instead of a sword, Arthur has come to the startling realization that he hasn’t ever given Merlin enough credit.

Now, after they’d all taken in the approaching army, he looks at his former servant, waiting for an answer regarding Merlin’s suspicions of Mordred.

Merlin doesn’t even look sheepish. He stares back with his chin up bravely, obviously preparing for an argument. 

“Well I wasn’t around to cover your royal backside anymore so somebody had to do it.” His eyes fall then to look at the brick beneath their feet. “I trusted Gwaine to do it for me.”

The irritation comes suddenly and Arthur isn’t able to quell it. 

“How did you even meet him anyway,” he mutters, also turning back to look at the army. “And when did you two have the time to grow so… close.”

Merlin looks back over with a confused expression, but when he finally opens his mouth intending to answer, Leon interrupts.

“We have more pressing matters, you two,” the knight murmurs, not looking at them but wearing a knowing smirk. 

Arthur wants to hit him. Lightly and on the shoulder, but still. Only the sight of Morgana nudging her horse into a canter to come and face them stops him.

“Hello, dear brother.” She calls, trotting her horse alongside the wall and looking up. She takes in Leon carelessly, gaze landing and skipping past him quickly. When she sees Merlin her lip curls. 

“Morgana,” Arthur replies before she can say something else. “Leave Camelot, now. We have no wish to fight you.”

“Oh, is that so?” She lifts her brows. Mordred finally stops his horse beside her. Arthur meets his eyes and watches as the younger man looks quickly away. “A pity, then, since I have every reason to quarrel with you.”

“I am not our father. You can’t blame me for his mistakes.”

“You have made it perfectly clear that you are no better than him. Especially in how you treat magic users.” Her eyes shift, landing on the man beside Arthur again, and pure fury is clear to see in her then. “Hello Merlin. Back to lick Arthur’s boots once more?”

Arthur frowns, glancing at them both. What has happened between these two? Obviously he’s missed something if the loathing looks and bitten off barbs are any indication.

“Leave Morgana.” Merlin’s words are hard.

Mordred is watching Merlin too and he seems shaken. “What are you doing, Emrys?”

“What I have always done. Protecting Arthur.”

Mordred takes them all in again before shaking his head. “He cares not for our people. You more than anyone, he banished you-”

“Enough!” Morgana’s lip curls and she turns her horse to trot back. “If Arthur wants to be as big a hypocrite as his father and use magic when it suits him fine, let him. Even Emrys cannot stop us.” She meets Arthur’s gaze again. “I offer you one chance to surrender, Arthur.”

Arthur swallows the lump in his throat and blinks, surprised at the tears in his eyes as he stares down at his sister. Her wild and matted hair, the torn and ragged dress that seems too large for her thin frame is hard for him to witness. This is not the woman he knew. This is not Morgana.

Still he finds it in him to speak. “You know I can’t do that, Morgana.”

Something vicious flashes in her eyes and her mouth hardens again. “Then you will die, along with your men.”

“I will not die today,” he proclaims with far more confidence than he feels.

He glances at Leon. “Has that been long enough?”

Leon nods. “It has, my lord.”

“Enough time for what?” Mordred calls.

He meets Arthur’s eyes for the first time. 

“For our troops to ready themselves.” 

That is the signal, and Leon waves a hand a second before archers stream in to line the wall beside them, arrows nocked and drawn. At that same moment the men begin to crank the drawbridge chains, letting it fall to reveal row upon row of armed Camelot knights sitting atop their horses, with Gwaine, Elyan, Lance and Percival seated at their front.

“Argh!” Morgana yells in frustration and immediately wheels her horse around to leave them, galloping towards her own troops standing far back, yelling orders at them to ready themselves to charge.

Arthur looks back at Mordred. He seems so young again, sitting alone on top of his horse, taking them all in while looking conflicted.

“It’s not too late, Mordred.” Arthur shouts. “Come back. Come home.”

Mordred takes a deep breath, one that seems shaky even from where Arthur stands, before looking up at him with burning eyes. 

“It is far too late.”

With that he turns his horse back around to stand with Morgana, and Arthur watches him go sadly.

“Give the order,” he says to Leon. “Charge.”

Mordred has only just reached the front of the army and turned back around to face them when Camelot’s knights rush out of the city, battle cries coming from each and every one of them as the thunderous sound of their horses' hoofbeats fill the air.

Arthur watches his army meet Morgana’s with a clash before turning to hurry down to where his horse waits, saddled and ready. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Arthur had shouted one last command before riding out with Leon to join the battle. Before that, from atop his horse, he’d looked towards Merlin and called, “stay here! I don’t want to be worrying about you on top of everything else!”

And then he kicks his horse into a gallop, clattering with Leon through the gate and out to meet the fray.

Merlin stands and stares after them for all of two seconds before giving himself a shake and talking to himself in frustration. 

“Stay here? As if. Of all the stupid, prattish things to do...” he looks around for a horse, standing to the side to ignore the line of men still streaming out of the city. It seems, however, that Arthur had not thought to order a horse be brought for Merlin.

“Fine then. If he thinks he can just leave me here as he goes up against Morgana he has another thing coming. Or did the idiot forget that I can run?”

Then Merlin realizes he’s wasting time talking to himself when he should be running as quickly as possible to reach Arthur and the others. So he shuts his mouth, takes a deep breath, and starts running.

* * *

Arthur has been unhorsed and fighting on foot for hours by the time the sun begins to go down but even then the battle shows no signs of letting up. He’s currently beside Elyan and manages to exchange one (hopefully) encouraging smile with him before they’re separated and Arthur is surrounded by more Southrons.

He’s lost track of who is winning and losing, of who he’s seen injured or killed. Though he’d charged for Morgana directly he’d been intercepted by a group of men with their weapons held high, and by the time he finishes dealing with them he looks up to see Morgana engaged in battle with Leon, the latter saying something that Arthur can’t hear from how far away he is.

Leon’s face is pleading though, and that is enough to make Arthur try and charge through the men separating them to reach the pair.

Mordred seems engaged by Gwaine and Percy both and this time it looks like him who is pleading, trying to convince them to lay down their weapons so he won’t have to hurt them.

It pains Arthur to have to turn away from them back to Morgana, but he knows she is the biggest threat. It is her in charge of this army, not Mordred, and so she is Arthur’s priority.

It seems to take ages to reach her and Leon, and once he does she keens happily. “Ah, here he is! Finally ready to fight your own battles, Arthur?”

But Arthur is in no mood for more verbal sparring. He glances at Leon, who already looks so defeated it hurts Arthur to see, and they exchange a nod before surging forward, swords high and aimed to hurt.

“No!” Morgana yells, and it seems that is all it takes for whatever strange hesitance she and Mordred have to disappear because she begins to call out a spell.

“Leon!” He warns, ducking to the side, barely missing whatever she has aimed at them. Whatever it is, it leaves the hairs on his arms standing up straight.

“That won’t work forever, Arthur,” she taunts, waving a hand to throw an incoming knight back with only a glance. Arthur winces as the man falls. “You can’t defend yourself against magic, not with your swords. Where’s Merlin, hmm? Maybe if he was here I would feel like you were giving me a bit of a challenge.”

“This is between you and me,” Arthur grunts, standing with his sword firmly gripped once more.

She tilts her head, appraising him. “Couldn’t agree more.”

She throws out a hand and an invisible force pushes him back to fly through the air to land on his back. He glances over and sees Leon busy with three enemy fighters, looks around and sees nobody available to help him as Morgana stalks forward, picking up his fallen sword easily to stand over him.

“This,” she hisses, “is where you die, Arthur. Say hello to Uther for me.”

“No!”

The anguished roar seems deafening to Arthur and before he can blink Morgana is being thrown into the three soldiers fighting Leon, the four of them going down as Leon gapes incredulously.

Merlin strides forward, appearing from nowhere, the fighters around him falling silent and parting for him without needing to be told. Everyone gives him a wide berth as he pushes towards them in long steps, eyes flashing and face furious.

He spares one glance for Arthur, to make sure he’s alright, and Arthur stares at him with wide eyes, stunned at what he sees. Merlin is powerful. Merlin is…

Frightening.

Good.

“Come on, Morgana,” Merlin cries as she stumbles up to her feet, face pale in shock and a whisper of fear. “Pick on someone your own size.”

The fear is gone, replaced with determination. “Gladly.”

She yells out a string of words, flinging shards of what look like ice at Merlin, but he waves a hand and they impale themselves in the ground at their feet before melting quickly. Then his eyes glow and the wind picks up before what looks like a twister touches down in front of her to fling her away and-

“Arthur, get up!” Leon grabs him by the armpits and hauls him to his feet, thrusting his sword back in his hand just in time for the goons from before charging at them.

From there it’s a mess and Arthur loses track of everything beyond keeping himself alive. Leon has long since disappeared, fighting someone or other, and now it is only Arthur, losing his brief glimpse of Elyan as he fights one soldier, and then the next, and the next.

They never end. They just keep coming, appearing out of the trees for Camelot’s men to hold back as best they can.

But they are not what terrifies Arthur to his very core.

No, it is Merlin, Morgana and Mordred that draws everyone’s eye. Arthur’s surprised he hasn’t been stabbed in his distraction, because he has glanced over at them far too often, leaving himself vulnerable every time he does.

But it’s impossible not to look at them, he thinks. He has never seen sorcerers fighting one another, and it would be entrancing, it is captivating, but it is also horrible. Destruction follows them. Torn earth and thunderclouds and furious wind that makes it impossible for any of the rest of them to come near them, at least now. Arthur can’t always tell who summons what or which spells they use, but he knows it’s Merlin who brings in the thunderstorm and lightning, and that it is Morgana who rips a huge boulder of rock from the ground to intercept the flash and stop it from hitting her.

Arthur isn’t even sure how long ago Morgana called over Mordred to help her against Merlin, he just knows it’s been a while. He had been close enough to hear it and to detect the shade of fear in her voice as she’d screamed at the Druid for aid.

Merlin hasn’t been saying much at all, at least not that Arthur can hear. There has been no yelling from him after he’d saved Arthur, and he’s managed to withstand every hurtful jab Morgana has aimed his way.

But it has been hours now, Arthur thinks to himself as the sun sets. Surely they’re all tired. Merlin has to be tired, even if he is Emrys, the most powerful sorcerer in the world. 

But Morgana and Mordred are powerful too. And there’s two of them while Merlin is alone.

Though Arthur tries to get closer, has tried multiple times, but when it isn’t strong winds keeping him back it’s Morgana, and when it’s not Morgana it’s Merlin, calling out to him to “stay away, can’t you see they’re coming for  _ you _ ?” before he’s distracted by diverting another spell and Arthur is occupied by another soldier.

Still he finds himself in a small pocket of space and uses the chance to catch his breath, trying to think.

Camelot’s knights are starting to flag, and though finally there are no new enemies appearing from the trees Arthur knows that if this fight is going to end quickly they need some help, some sort of advantage. Usually in a war the fighting would be called off about now and they would resume in the morning, but Arthur knows he can’t trust Morgana to keep to the usual code of war. She would likely attack at some point in the night, sneaking into the castle using some sort of tunnel, climbing up from a secret room in the basement-

-oh.

That’s it. Exactly what they need.

He hates to do it, and he loathes the idea of anyone seeing him flee from the fight, but he isn’t fleeing, not really, and Arthur knows for certain that if he can get this to work it would save them all. At least for a while.

So he turns, knowing Morgana and Mordred are both distracted by Merlin and have momentarily lost sight of him, and he pushes through to get back to the castle, dispatching any enemies who get in his way as he goes.

He thinks he hears Merlin yell his name- and of course Merlin is keeping tabs on him even in this mess of a situation, of course- but he doesn’t look back. He has to trust that Merlin can hold Morgana and Mordred off for a little longer and that his men will be able to defend the city until he can do what needs to be done.

The streets are deserted in the citadel, everyone either hiding in their homes or the castle walls, and Arthur manages to make it through fairly fast, all things considered. He runs faster than he ever has before, and instead of entering the castle at the main doors he goes in the nearest entrance and finds the stairs leading down into the depths of the caves under the fortress.

For a second he feels wrong-footed. He’s never found the cavern from this way before, but eventually he finds the right hallway, and then the right staircase, and he goes down until he finds the familiar opening to the cave and slips in to stand on the ledge.

Kilgarrah stands perched on the large rock and stares back at him steadily without even a bit of surprise.

“Young Pendragon,” the dragon’s eyes glint. Arthur wonders if he knows what he’s about to ask him. “It has been a while since you’ve come to visit me.”

Arthur has no time for any of that. 

“Help us,” he gasps, breathless from the running. “Please. I’ll release you, you’ll be free to live where and how you wish, as long as you promise not to attack Camelot or its people. Please just help us.”

“You have already sworn to release me,” Kilgarrah leans forwards. “Why should I aid you against the witch now? She fights for the Old Religion, from which I am borne.”

Arthur gnashes his teeth, impatience spilling over. “I thought you wanted me to be king!”

“I do.”

“Then that means you support me! That you’re on my side”

Kilgarrah laughs and Arthur feels stripped bare and stupid, like only Uther had managed to make him feel before. “It absolutely does not. I am free to do what I wish, when I wish. None have any claim over me, and especially not you.”

Arthur stares at him helplessly. 

“Please.” He repeats. “We need you.” 

He debates before just saying it. It can’t make things worse, right? 

“Merlin is back but he can’t fight Mordred and Morgana alone. He needs help and only you can help him.”

“Merlin fights for you.”

“And I’m here trying to get him aid!” Arthur cries. “Please, Kilgarrah, there’s no time.”

He’s not sure what does it; whether it’s the promise of his freedom or if the dragon truly cares about Merlin and wants to help him, Arthur will never know, and he doesn’t care, not really, as long as Kilgarrah does what he needs him to.

“Very well.” The dragon dips his head. “Release me.”

Arthur takes in the huge chains holding him captive. “How?”

“You will need your sword, Excalibur. It is the only weapon powerful enough to break these.”

As carefully as possible while still moving as quick as he can, Arthur climbs down and then around and up to where Kilgarrah sits. He doesn’t hesitate, even knowing this huge beast could kill him in an instant if he wanted, that Kilgarrah has many reasons to detest Arthur simply for being the son of the man who imprisoned him. None of that matters. He just needs Kilgharrah to help them.

“Just scare them away. If they can just retreat, at least a bit, so they’re out of sight of Camelot that would be enough. I’ll pursue them with my men. We just need more time.”

They’d prepared for this, knowing Morgana was coming back, but that the attack had come today had been a surprise. They can hold them off, but the cost would be great. Arthur would rather pursue them and fight on his own terms.

“I will drive them off and no more.” Kilgarrah warns. “This is your fight, Arthur Pendragon.”

“I know.” He pulls out his blade and touches it to a link in the chain. “Here?”

“That will be adequate.”

Without wasting another second Arthur heaves the blade up over his head to swing it down with all his might. A spray of sparks flies up from where the metal is severed and Arthur is surprised at how easily Excalibur cuts through it. 

Still he looks up, meeting the dragon’s eyes for one last time.

“I will not forget this,” Kilgarrah rumbles, sounding almost grateful, and Arthur actually manages a smile.

“Neither will I.”

The dragon dips his head one more time, a sign of respect that touches Arthur, despite everything, before crouching and leaping up into the air, wings fanning out with a powerful gust.

He beats his wings, once, twice, and then he’s up, flying away and out of Arthur’s sight to escape the cave in a way only he knows.

A massive roar fills the air moments later and Arthur smiles before turning to hurry back out to the battle. He needs to go and tell his men  _ not  _ to attack the dragon coming to help them.

But by the time he gets to Camelot’s walls he sees it’s too late; he doesn’t need to. The sight that meets him makes him let out a breath of pure relief. He doesn’t smile though, because the screams ringing the air are horrible for anyone to hear.

Morgana’s men are in disarray. Spears and swords are thrown up at Kilgarrah but bounce off helplessly, not even piercing his hide. The dragon seems far larger now that he’s outside and swooping down from the sky with bared teeth and breaths of fire. He reaches out his claws to topple men and their wooden spears splinter and break. Cloaks catch on fire and within seconds they’re all turning to get away as quickly as possible.

Arthur’s knights are all backing towards the castle, hesitantly leaving Kilgarrah to deal with the enemy. Leon is in front, shouting orders, and Arthur does feel happiness then at the sight.

He looks back out but it seems Mordred and Morgana have already fled, leading the retreat. The horn is sounding again and again, piercing the air even through the screams and the dragon’s roars.

All it takes is one final go as Kilgarrah turns above Arthur to dive back down towards the Southrons and break even the bravest men’s resolve. They turn and run, weapons falling to the ground.

Arthur moves again, pushing through his men fairly easily until he reaches Leon. He scans the sea of faces, catching sight of the other knights, but frowns at the one that’s missing.

“Merlin?”

“There.” Leon turns and points back behind them, to where Arthur now sees the lone figure standing and staring up at the dragon who moves now to land in front of him calmly.

They start speaking and Arthur hears Percy make a choked noise.

“He was the one who told us to move back when we saw the dragon.” Leon looks at Arthur. “He knew he would help us.”

There are silent questions in his friend’s eyes, many questions, but Arthur only nods. “I’m glad you listened.”

Leon is quiet for a second before seeming to accept that answers will come later. “So am I. He ended the battle in seconds.”

They both look back in time to see Kilgarrah fan his wings out again and beat them quickly to lift himself up and fly over the trees and away, until he was only a distant black smudge in the air.

Merlin walks towards them all alone.

“He’s okay.” Gwaine appears at Arthur’s shoulder out of nowhere, making him jump. “I checked. He said he wanted to say goodbye.”

There’s something in Gwaine’s voice, something almost hurt, and Arthur wonders what it’s for. That there has been a secret dragon under the castle no one said anything about? Perhaps. Arthur just doesn’t know whether the hurt is for him or Merlin or both of them.

“Of course he did,” he says before turning back to Leon. “Get the men ready for pursuit. We’re going after them.”

“Sire?”

“Morgana is too dangerous to leave out there. Unless we want to repeat this forever, we need to take this battle to her and we need to end it. Kilgarrah bought us a reprieve, one we needed. Now let’s use it.”

It’s the last thing he says before he moves out, leaving the men behind, to meet Merlin in the middle of the scorched, and ruined battlefield. One littered with more bodies wearing red cloaks than Arthur likes.

“So,” he speaks first. “You know the dragon.”

Merlin looks exhausted, and though Arthur trusts Gwaine, he only hesitates a moment before he runs his hands over the sorcerer anyway, checking for wounds. Merlin watches it all in amusement, lips quirking.

“Kilgarrah,” he corrects softly. “Yes. He won’t be back here.”

Arthur wonders how Merlin knows that but figures that is a question best left for another time. 

Merlin surprises him by speaking again however. “How do you know him?”

“Oh, you know,” Arthur shrugs, trying to play it off. “It just makes sense to talk to the one being in the whole castle left who seemed to know about us and our prophecy and destiny.” Merlin’s mouth falls open. “Or did you think I didn’t know about all of that either, beyond what you’d told me?”

Merlin snaps his mouth shut. “But then- if you know that-”

“That means I know you’re prophesied to serve me?” 

It’s not what Merlin expects him to say and he glares. “Not serve in the way you’re thinking-”

“Looks like you’ve been in the perfect position all along as my manservant,” Arthur continues, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulders and trying to make it seem casual when really his heart is pounding out of his chest as they begin to walk towards Camelot. “So when I give you orders to muck the stables or scrub my room, just remember it’s all part of your destiny-”

“I don’t think  _ that  _ is necessarily a part of it...”

But Arthur looks over and catches his eye and Merlin trails off, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation. It hurts and warms Arthur in equal measure to see that familiar gesture again. 

“You are such a prat,” Merlin says when Arthur finally gives up his teasing.

“Someone’s got to keep you grounded,” he replies. “Seeing as you’re this all powerful sorcerer and everything.” Their eyes meet again. “Which we  _ will  _ be talking about, by the way.”

Merlin chews his lower lip. Arthur is tempted to reach out a hand and stop him but he clenches his fist instead. 

“I figured.”

Arthur allows himself to grow serious, the relief at them both being alive slowly starting to wear off as everything that has just happened settles in. 

“For now, you get a day off. Two even.” He makes sure their blue eyes hold. “Everything you’ve done Merlin, the things you’ve gone through… I know now.” He licks his lips. “Thank you.”

Tears shine in Merlin’s eyes but he forces a laugh and nudges him. He still doesn’t push Arthur’s arm off his shoulder though. “Like I said, someone has to save your royal bottom.”

But Arthur isn’t entirely ready to let the moment go. “Well then I’m glad it’s you.”

Merlin blinks at him before looking away. 

“Come on,” he mutters. “We need to pack. War campaigns aren’t undertaken lightly, you know. Especially when it’s you we’re talking about.”

“Oi!”

“Royal tent, royal bed, plush pillows too I expect, only the best for King Arthur. We’ll need about a hundred caravans for you alone-”

“Enough, you.” He growls, but it is enough to make them both laugh and to ease some of the tension that hangs over them. It’s like old times again and Arthur knows suddenly, that as long as they can make it through this fight with Morgana, that the two of them are going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts...? Feel free to share them, either in the comments or message us on Tumblr @yourstrulytaaay and @Percyjacksonfan3


	10. you are not alone, i've been here the whole time

Merlin doesn’t know how Arthur doesn’t expect him to laugh in his face when he stands beside his throne, looking serious, and says solemnly, “Merlin I don’t think you should come.”

But as Merlin’s laughter tapers off the look on Arthur’s face makes it very, very clear that he hadn’t, in fact, expected Merlin’s reaction. Which makes the sorcerer wonder just how many times Arthur has gotten knocked in the head while he’s been gone, because surely Arthur hadn’t been this obtuse before.

“Wait. You’re serious?”

“Of course I am.” Arthur stares back at him, crossing his arms. “Morgana isn’t the only one weak from fighting today. I can see how exhausted you are.”

“It’s nothing a night of rest won’t help with-”

“Which you won’t get on campaign.” Arthur isn’t moved. “I would feel better with you here to protect Camelot. Just in case someone thinks to take advantage of us while I take our army and guard. Or even if Morgana is tricking us.”

“Arthur-”

“Merlin.” His voice is firm. “Even you have your limits. Besides, this isn’t your fight. It’s not you that Morgana hates, it’s me.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.”

“A lot has changed in your absence.” Merlin flinches and Arthur looks regretful for a moment before he seems to force himself on. “I’ve taken care of myself for five years now.”

Merlin opens his mouth, ready to deny that because it is completely untrue. Arthur has so many people around watching over him, and even if Merlin hasn’t physically been there, he’s been doing it too. But looking into Arthur’s eyes he can see that he knows that, that these paltry excuses are just that: excuses.

Merlin swallows. “Is it because you don’t trust me anymore?”

Arthur’s eyes close slowly. “No.” 

But he offers no other explanation.

Merlin shakes his head. “Then I don’t understand.”

“This isn’t some threat from a tourney knight, or getting rid of a troll, or even defending Ealdor!” Arthur’s blue eyes blaze. “This is war, Merlin, and people die, and if you go there’s a good chance-”

He cuts off abruptly and turns away.

“What?” 

When he doesn’t answer, Merlin strides forwards to physically turn him around so they can face each other. “What, Arthur?”

“People die in wars.” Arthur says, sounding hollow, which is the only reason Merlin doesn’t point out how stupid that statement is. “I just have a feeling that if you go…”

“Yes?”

“Then there’s a good chance one of us won’t make it back.” Arthur lifts his eyes to look at him. “I too you for granted before, by just expecting you to always be by my side. I’m not going to do that anymore. You should be safe, out of harms way. You getting hurt because of me… I can’t risk that. I won’t. Not if I can help it.”

Merlin shakes his head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not-”

“Arthur, listen to me. Today was the first time the two of us have ever fought together with you knowing what I am. And I know we were surprised by the attack, but we made it, didn’t we? I don’t think we could have done so well if I was still hiding from you.”

“I hear you, Merlin, and you’re right, we did better than any of us could have predicted. But the only reason we made it out today was because of Kilgarrah and he’s gone now.”

“Arthur-”

“No, Merlin. I mean it. You’re not coming and that’s final. The rest… we’ll talk about the rest when I get back.”

Merlin steps away, feeling betrayed. “You don’t even think you’re coming back. And without me you’re not even giving yourself the chance.”

“That’s not-”

“I can’t just sit back waiting to see whether or not you survive.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

Merlin isn’t going to wait to hear any more, so he turns to move away.

“Merlin, don’t leave now!”

“Why not?” He snaps. “You clearly don’t want me around, and you’re not listening to a word I say anyway-”

“That’s not true!”

“Yes it is!” Merlin whirls around. “You know, I knew when I told you the truth that things would change, Arthur, obviously they would. And I understood when you sent me away, and I know you didn’t ask me to come back, but…”

Arthur looks at him wide-eyed. “But what?”

“I guess I’d hoped that even though I came back without your permission that- that you’d have missed me as much as I missed you. And regretted everything that happened as much as I do. I guess I hoped things would be different now that you knew who I was, and that you wouldn’t still think I was useless and good for nothing except cleaning up after you!”

He waits but Arthur only stares at him speechlessly. Merlin swallows his disappointment. 

“See? Even now, nothing’s changed.” He clears his throat. “Not for you, anyway.” 

He turns to leave again. 

“Merlin-”

“Don’t worry, I heard what you said. I won’t leave with you. Believe me, I don’t exactly like the thought of being where I’m not wanted.”

He leaves before Arthur can say anything else and stop him.

But he’s Merlin and he’ll never change. So even as he’s storming up to find Gaius- ignoring the surprised and questioning looks of some of the old serving staff he passes- he knows that there’s no chance in hell he’s going to let Arthur and the others go to face Morgana alone. And he didn’t lie; he won’t leave with Arthur and the others. 

But he said nothing about leaving right after to follow them.

Despite how mad he is, all of that is pushed far away once he opens the door and sees Gaius moving around.

He’d meant to say something to Gaius before going to Arthur, but in the end he had forced himself to see the king before his courage failed. While he had seen Gaius in town since coming back to Camelot, the last time had been a while ago, and seeing him now, back in his own body without having to hide, feels better than Merlin could ever describe.

“Hi Gaius.”

The old man jumps about a foot in the air and whirls around with a shocked look on his face. “Merlin!”

They rush forward to hug one another before Gaius pulls away, leaving his hands on Merlin’s shoulders. “Let me look at you, my boy, it’s been far too long.”

Merlin can’t deny it, and allows him to look as long as he wants. Eventually Gaius looks back up to his face.

“I heard about the battle.” Gaius’s face is knowing. “Gwen rushed to tell me that you were back and Arthur knows everything.”

Merlin looks away. “We don’t need to talk about Arthur.”

Those bushy brows furrow. “Merlin?”

“It’s nothing.” He lets out a long breath. “Well, it’s not. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

Gaius cocks his head. “Just tell me you’re not about to do anything foolish.”

“Who me?”

Gaius raises the eyebrow and Merlin sighs. “Arthur’s the foolish one. He doesn’t want me to go with them in pursuit of Morgana.”

Gaius takes that in quietly. “I see.”

“Which is the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard!” Merlin begins to pace. “If anyone can help him with Morgana it’s me, isn’t it? And I know it’s been years but- well, is it really so outrageous for him to trust me enough not to let Camelot fall to her? It’s not like he’s found another sorcerer he trusts, is it?”

Gaius shakes his head when Merlin glances over. “You know he hasn’t.”

“Then what’s making him act so unbelievably stupid? I don’t understand.”

“Oh Merlin,” Gaius sounds pitying. “He’s scared, can’t you see that?”

“But I would never hurt him-”

“He’s not scared of you, he’s scared for you, and for himself. For all of Camelot and everything he loves.” Gaius holds his gaze. “Even the bravest of men feel fear, Merlin.”

Merlin stares at him uncomprehending. “But I can help him.”

“And knowing you you’re planning to anyway, despite what he’s said.”

Merlin shrugs. “It just makes sense.”

“It does. But Merlin,” Gaius reaches out to clasp his hand. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will.” 

He doesn’t look anymore at ease, but Gaius releases him. “Good.” 

“But first get some sleep. It’s late and you’ve had a busy day, I’m surprised you’re still on your feet at all.”

Merlin glances behind Gaius. “My room-”

“Is exactly how you left it.”

Their eyes meet and Merlin smiles. “Thank you, Gaius. Make sure you get some rest too, you’ve been busy with the wounded all evening.”

“Very well.” He pats Merlin’s shoulder. “Will you be gone when I wake?”

“Probably.”

“Then be safe. Do your best to bring you and Arthur back in one piece.”

“I always do.”

“Goodnight Merlin.” Gaius gives him a soft look. “I admit it will be nice knowing you’re asleep in the next room again.”

“Yeah.” Merlin ducks his head shyly. “It’s nice to be home.”

Arthur and Gaius are right. Merlin is exhausted, and it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep. However it’s easy to wake up when he hears the loud voices and sounds of numerous armoured bodies in the main square readying themselves for the march.

Merlin gets up too, and quickly packs what he thinks he’ll need. It’s not much in the end, just some food and a waterskin. He doesn’t exactly see this lasting long. He waits until Arthur and his army have moved out before quietly slipping from his room.

He’s not sure which of them are more surprised when he runs smack into Gwen in the corridor.

“Oh my gosh, Merlin!” She exclaims, grabbing him tightly in a hug before taking him in. “Let me look at you. Lance told me about the battle and what you did, that’s incredible, I’m so proud of you.”

“Gwen.”

“But are you sure you’re alright? Because that’s bound to take a lot out of a person and I heard you were doing things with lightning and water- you didn’t catch a chill, did you? Because there’s an excellent broth for that, chicken and noodles and some vegetables, it will really warm you up-”

“Gwen.” Merlin interrupts her again, successfully this time, with a soft and fond smile. “I’m sorry, I’d love to stay and chat, but I need to get going.”

For the first time she seems to notice his bag. “Oh! But I thought- Arthur said you were staying?”

Merlin grits his teeth. “Arthur’s being an idiot.”

She bites her lip unsure, but nods eventually. “I’ll admit I was surprised when I heard. You do seem to be our best chance of fighting Morgana after all. But Merlin, Arthur told me himself that you were staying when I said goodbye to him. In fact he…”

“He what?”

“Well he was disappointed when you didn’t come to see them off so he gave me a message for you. It’s why I was on my way to Gaius’ now, in fact.”

Merlin waits. “What was the message?”

“Well, um. He said he was sorry, that you’ve got the wrong idea about something, and that as soon as he gets back you two will talk everything over.” She worries her lip some more. “Was he very angry with you for coming back?”

“No. I don’t know.” Merlin sighs. “It didn’t seem like it. Things were fine and I’d hoped we’d even get back to normal. But then he told me to stay here while they all go out against Morgana and well… what am I meant to think about that?”

“I don’t know.” She says softly. “But you should have seen him this morning, he looked awful. Really sorry. It’s obvious he didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“I’m sure it’s because he has bigger things to deal with than me.” Merlin blows out a breath. “Look Gwen I gotta go, I need to follow them.”

She nods. “Of course.”

“I’ll leave the protection enchantments in place so that should be enough to stop anything too dangerous from attacking here but will you watch over things here while I’m gone?”

“Obviously, someone’s got to, and it can’t very well be Geoffrey can it? Go, Merlin, and be safe!”

“Thanks, Gwen! See you when we get back!” He calls as he runs down the stairs.

It’s mindless to saddle up one of the few horses remaining in the castle stables- technically Merlin is stealing one of the king’s horses by doing so but it’s not like either he or Arthur are going to care about that, is it? 

The air is cool from the winter chill and it bites at him as he rides, following the trail of Camelot’s army. Hundreds of foot soldiers and cavalry aren’t exactly easy to move or hide, so Merlin has no problem catching up to them fairly quickly. When he begins to hear the sounds of talking soldiers he slows his horse to a walk. 

It won’t do to catch up to Arthur and the rest now, not so close to Camelot where Arthur could easily send him back. No, he’ll wait and only join them when they’re close to Morgana. 

He tries to occupy himself on the ride by strengthening Camelot’s enchantments and casting a few over the army and Arthur and the Round Table knights in particular. Nothing too difficult, just warming spells and strengthening spells so they aren’t too tired. They did spend all of yesterday fighting after all.

Eventually he ends up just talking to his horse. It’s an unfamiliar one, and he knows Arthur’s probably named it something ridiculous like Stormhoof or Thunder, so instead Merlin calls her Beryl and slips her bites of apple. She seems to appreciate it.

Soon night is falling just as the army arrives at a crop of trees and begins to set up camp. Merlin hesitates only a moment before deciding this is probably far enough. Morgana can’t have run that far yet, and besides, he’d spotted some of her spies along the way. She undoubtedly knows they’re pursuing her. 

It would be smartest for her to establish herself somewhere to fight. After glancing around (from a force of habit), Merlin quickly casts a spell to look ahead and sure enough, there they are. The enemy seems to be gathering itself back together to make a last stand. He sees harried and terrified looking soldiers trying to form patrols for guarding a far half of a clearing among the trees. A clearing large enough to serve as an effective battlefield.

As he watches it begins to snow and Merlin shivers before blinking his eyes and bringing himself back to where he stands.

Merlin swallows nervously.

This isn’t good. They’re so close to Morgana, and even though Arthur undoubtedly has riders himself, Merlin should tell him and the others what he saw. Maybe he was too easily offended earlier, he thinks while worrying his lip. Arthur doesn’t exactly know everything he can do with his powers, so that means he doesn’t know all the ways Merlin can be useful in this fight. More than just the magical combat, Merlin can help with healing and spying and strategy and-

-his mind is made up. This is not the time to allow himself to be cowed by Arthur, not when he knows the king is wrong and lives are at stake. Not when Arthur’s life is at stake.

With a soft cluck he kicks his horse forward to walk her to where Camelot’s army has made camp. Through the women’s tents and the cooking and healing quarters before he dismounts easily, nodding at those whose eyes he meets, ignoring most of them as they hurry on with their own duties. Many of these women are wives or loved ones of the knights, and Merlin somberly wonders how many of these couples believed tonight might be their last together.

The reins grow slick in his hands despite the chill. Snow falls in his hair and melts, trickling down his neck and making him shiver as he finally reaches the front of the camp where the King’s Tent is set up with fires burning just outside of it.

His heart warms to see Arthur sitting around the fire with the others. Elyan, Percy, Gwaine, Lance and Leon all sit with their king. A few of them are laughing. All but Arthur look happy, or at least content.

But Arthur, Merlin notes, he seems to carry all of his burden visibly on his face as he watches the other knights joke and carry on their conversation. Merlin aches to see the pain in his old friend, and it hurts more to know he is the cause of some of it.

It’s Gwaine who catches sight of him first, looking over to where Merlin is standing with his horse off to the side. “Merlin!”

All pairs of eyes shoot to him and Merlin watches the varied reactions. Lance and Gwaine shoot up to their feet immediately to come over and greet him, clapping him on the back and clasping his arm happily. Percy and Elyan smile and call out hellos. 

Leon looks at Merlin, and there is no anger in his expression, or anything to suggest he is displeased, but he does glance at Arthur almost warily, as if gauging his reaction.

Arthur is completely unreadable, at least to Merlin. There was once a time where that would have been nearly impossible. Merlin used to know Arthur and his expressions better than anyone, and it is the final hurt of the evening to think that perhaps they’d been apart for so long he and Arthur have lost that connection. The thought alone is enough to scare him.

“Merlin, we thought you weren’t coming!” Lance greets him warmly, nothing but appreciation in his voice, though he is frowning. “Are you rested enough? Arthur said-”

“I’m fine,” Merlin cuts him off roughly, glancing back over at Arthur who is now staring determinedly into the fire.

Well fine then. Merlin looks back to Lance and Gwaine. Arthur isn’t the only one who can be petty.

“It’s good to see you, Merlin.” Gwaine leads him over to sit back down, manhandling Merlin between him and Elyan while Lance ties up the horse. “Perce’s stew was complete shite compared to yours.”

“Oi!” Percy reaches over to smack the back of Gwaine’s head. “Next time you can make it then.”

Elyan and Leon both groan. 

“Great, Gwaine, now look what you’ve done.” Gwen’s brother laments.

“Watch it people.” Gwaine warns, pointing a threatening finger at them all as Lance sits back down. “Anyway, enough about that. Melin’s here, we ought to get him some of the drink to warm the poor lad up.”

“Erm, I think you drank it all Gwaine.” Leon says with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh.” The poor man actually looks guilty. “Well-”

“That’s alright, Gwaine, really.” Merlin reassures him. “In fact-”

Arthur stands up and leaves without a word, striding to his tent and disappearing. A tense silence is left in his wake and Merlin snaps his mouth shut, staring after him and knowing the look on his face is hurt. 

He really hadn’t expected Arthur to be overjoyed at seeing him again, what with breaking his exile and everything. And he supposes he should be grateful that Arthur isn’t calling for his head or demanding he be banished again. In fact he’d even admitted to missing him. But still-

-still it’s like nothing has changed, not really. Arthur still isn’t listening to him and Merlin just doesn’t know why.

Leon looks over at him pityingly, seeming to understand Merlin’s expression faster than the others. 

“He’s just… tired. A lot’s happened.” He stands up slowly, stamping his boots in the steadily falling snow. “I’ll go and see him.”

“Wait.” Merlin looks up and meets his eyes. “When you do, tell him that I looked ahead. Several leagues ahead there’s a clearing, one large enough for two armies to meet. Morgana and her men have set up camp there and I think that’s where they plan to meet you tomorrow.” He swallows, glancing around at them all. “Also…. Tell him I’ve made sure we’re safe. For tonight I mean.”

Percy blinks. “You can do that?”

“Sure.” Merlin shrugs, abashed. “I mean… there’s spells for almost anything, really.”

Elyan and Gwaine grin at him. 

“Brilliant,” the former says appreciatively as Gwaine nods.

Lance meets his eyes and Merlin feels his nerves settle a little before he looks back up at Leon who is watching him closely. 

“I’ll tell him.” He says seriously and pauses a moment. “Thank you, Merlin. For everything. I don’t know how many times you saved my life in the past, but I know you have. So thank you for that.”

Merlin stares at him in shock. “Uh, you’re welcome.”

Leon nods before turning to follow Arthur. Merlin stares after him until Gwaine nudges his side.

“Look at you! That’s not too bad, is it? Thanks and appreciation from Camelot’s Head Knight?”

“Yeah.” Merlin looks down at the fire. “If only Arthur wasn’t mad at me.”

“Ah, don’t worry about him.” Gwaine scoffs and Merlin sends him a look.

“Shut up, Gwaine.” Percy mutters, leaning forward to look around Gwaine to see Merlin. “You should have seen him when you were gone Merlin, he was a mess. Believe me, he’s loads better already.”

“Doesn’t seem like it to me.”

“Well you two are hopeless, aren’t you?” Elyan replies casually, leaning back to look up at the quickly appearing stars. “You both practically have your heads stuck in the sand.”

“What?” Merlin asks in complete bewilderment. 

“Ignore him,” Lance rolls his eyes. “And don’t take Arthur too seriously. He’s just worried, that’s all.”

“Well that’s what I mean! He should have asked me to come and help fight with you again, that way we’re almost sure of beating Morgana, and he won’t have to worry so much-”

“Merlin.” Lance interrupts heavily. “He’s worried about  _ you _ .”

“Me? Why?”

“Come on, Merls.” Gwaine says. “The entire time Arthur knew you he thought of you as someone he needed to look out for and protect. And from what I heard, he didn’t exactly like to let you out of his sight and let others do the job.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Elyan says.

“You weren’t even a knight yet, how do you know?” Merlin raises an eyebrow and Elyan laughs. 

“Gwen, obviously.”

“Oh. Right.”

“It’s true though, Merlin.” Lance picks up from where Gwaine had stopped. “ _ I  _ saw you two together before you left, I know what you were both like. And we all know Arthur.” The others nod. “He had an idea of who you were, and when you told him about your magic, that idea changed. And while he’s accepted most of that, accepted  _ you _ , it will always be hard for him to let the people he loves willingly walk into danger where he might not be able to protect them. He doesn’t want you to have to face something that would easily knock him flat on his arse”

“We know you’re meant to be the most powerful sorcerer on earth,” Percy continues. “But to us you’re still Merlin too. And we all know that Arthur protects Merlin.”

Merlin looks around at them all. “That’s really what you think this is?”

“Definitely.” Gwaine says. “We love you both, but you’re very predictable. This is Arthur, a man who likes to be in control. Of course he’s going to try and arrange for you to be safe somewhere he won’t have to worry. And of course you would immediately ignore the king’s order and follow us all anyway, because you’re Merlin and you’re always going to find a way back to Arthur’s side.”

Merlin and the others all ignore the softness of Gwaine’s voice, the way he studiously avoids Merlin’s eye, and stares at the flames instead. Instead Merlin thinks about what they’ve said.

Can they be right? Had Arthur really ordered him to stay to try and keep him safe back in Camelot? It’s what Arthur had told him too, after all, but part of Merlin had been convinced that Arthur still just didn’t trust his magic and didn’t want him there to fight Morgana.

Just then he looks up and catches sight of Arthur standing in his open tent flap staring at them all as Leon walks back to join them. And there is such a painful and longing look on his face as his eyes meet Merlin’s that Merlin feels a lump form in his throat.

Those blue eyes are heavy and sad, and Merlin doesn’t know what expression is on his face but he can feel it slowly slip away as he and Arthur stare at one another.

Finally, after what feels like eons, Arthur nods. It is a motion so slight that Merlin almost misses it, or assumes he’d imagined it in the first place. But no, Arthur had nodded, and then as Merlin watches, the king turns and slips back into his tent rather than rejoining them all out there.

“See?”

Gwaine speaks quietly but it still makes Merlin jump where he sits beside him. When he looks over there is something eerily close to heartbreak in his friend’s brown eyes. 

“Go talk to him, Merlin. Neither of you will be right until you do.” 

Gwaine still speaks so low that there is a chance none of the others hear him. Though they are talking amongst themselves, Merlin can feel their eyes on the two of them.

Suddenly Merlin feels like the next few seconds are critical, though he isn’t sure who for. Was it for him and Arthur, or maybe, somehow without Merlin noticing it, they’re critical for him and Gwaine?

“Gwaine-”

“Go.” His friend says again, forcing a smile. Merlin feels his heart clench painfully. “It’s what you want.”

If any part of Merlin could have denied it he would have, but he isn’t going to lie to Gwaine. Instead he breaks their eye contact to nod, and glances over at Leon who isn’t pretending not to watch them.

The knight jerks his head towards the tent and Merlin knows it is the silent encouragement he was asking for. That brand of quiet Leon reassurance that said yes, go, he’s waiting for you anyway.

With his heart pounding in his chest Merlin gets up, ignoring the way the others fall silent immediately, and leaves them to walk towards the tent.

He pauses only a moment before slipping inside. The candles are still lit, so he takes that as confirmation that Arthur isn’t in bed or undressing.

Even if he was, Merlin supposed it isn’t anything he hasn’t seen before. Hopefully.

But he has to shake those thoughts away and he takes a deep breath to do so before moving forward into the tent.

Arthur is facing away from him, his boot-clad feet shoulder width apart and his arms crossed over his white shirt. Merlin shivers, feeling the warmth of the numerous candles reaching him in the tented air, causing the dusting of snow on him to melt. Absently he wonders where the knights are sleeping and where he would go. Usually he slept in Arthur’s tent, but he isn’t willing to bet on that tonight.

The others wouldn’t let him sleep the night in the falling snow though, and with that encouraging thought he clears his throat. “Look-”

“I’m not mad that you’re here.”

Merlin nods, walking forwards so that they can speak face to face. He hates not being able to see Arthur’s expressions when they are talking. 

“Okay. Thank you.” 

Arthur’s stance doesn’t change but Merlin was reassured that the look on his face isn’t closed off or angry. Instead Arthur just looks tired and considering, as if Merlin is a particularly hard puzzle to solve.

“I didn’t want to disobey you. Again,” he tacks on. “But there’s never going to be a time when I’m comfortable with you going into danger without me.” He looks at Arthur determinedly. “You didn’t know all those years I protected you. You’re my biggest priority. So I understand that when you ordered me to stay you didn’t think about that.”

Surprise flashes across Arthur’s face and Merlin feels something in him settle at the confirmation of his words. Not that he hadn’t believed them, but- well, there had been a small piece of him that wasn’t sure.

“I don’t have to bother you. I don’t want to get in your way.” Arthur opens his mouth but Merlin rushes on. “But I had to come with you and I have to protect you. I know what I’m capable of, Arthur, and if it comes to it, then I can stop Morgana. I don’t want to, not if there’s another way, but for Camelot I will. For you I will.”

He looks down. “And I know you don’t trust me, or value my opinion anymore-”

“Merlin-”

“-but I am useful, I swear. You saw what I can do yesterday, and if- maybe if you can show me your plans I can help defend weak spots. Or something. I can look ahead too, I know where Morgana and her men are stationed and waiting-”

“Merlin, stop.” Arthur reaches out to place a hand over his mouth. His palm is rough against Merlin’s lips, but callused from gripping swords and fighting all his life. Merlin keeps his lips firmly closed in case he did something embarrassing. “I am listening to you, and I’ll let you know what I think of all of that in a moment, but we need to talk about something else first.”

He takes his hand back and Merlin watches him flex his fingers at his side, like he is shaking Merlin from his skin. 

With effort he wrenches his gaze back to Arthur’s. “What?”

Arthur stares at him for a moment before blinking and jerking his head, as if he’d lost his train of thought. “I know there’s a lot we need to discuss but I can’t go one more moment without making it clear that you were completely wrong yesterday.”

Merlin stares at him in shock. “What?”

“I do trust you.” Arthur searches his face. “More than anyone. And I value your judgement and opinion just as much.” He is speaking slowly, intently, as if to make sure Merlin fully understands what he is saying. “I know I behaved… cruelly, sometimes, back when you were my manservant. And there were reasons for that, reasons I thought made it necessary, reasons I could never share with you, but now…” Arthur swallows. “Now I’m the king. And damn propriety, damn the customs and whatever the hell my father would think, I need you to know that to me- to me…” His mouth works and Merlin watches, open mouthed at the words he was hearing. “I have always known how special you are. From the moment we met.” A ghost of a smile crosses Arthur’s face. “And I need you to know that I never, ever, thought you were good for nothing but being my servant.”

“Arthur.” It’s all Merlin can say. He barely manages that even, the name escaping him in a mere whisper, but Merlin can’t find his voice to fix it.

He doesn’t know what he’d expected after their fight, but it surely hadn’t been Arthur taking his words to heart so deeply.

“I just-” Arthur clenches his jaw in frustration but holds Merlin’s gaze. “I know we’ve both changed. But I need you to understand that everything back then, between us… you know all the teasing and jokes were just that, don’t you?” He makes a movement but stops himself a moment later. Merlin aches for the touch that never came. “I always thought you were the bravest, most incredibly loyal person I’d known. And I’m sorry if you felt that I didn’t appreciate you.”

Immediately Merlin feels like the most horrible person in the world. For the first time it strikes him that maybe it isn’t just his magic and everything he’s done for Arthur behind his back that he wants appreciation for. Maybe Merlin’s desire for Arthur to just notice him and respect him for who he is, to consider him as an equal, is because Merlin is hopelessly in love with the man and just wanted a smidgeon of that affection returned; even if it is only in the form of recognition for what he is capable of.

But seeing the look on Arthur’s face and the genuine distress in his voice is enough for Merlin to realize this has been bothering Arthur ever since they’d fought. That Arthur is upset because he thinks he’s hurt Merlin by not being what? Affectionate enough? Falling all over at Merlin’s feet to show how grateful he is? 

That isn’t what Merlin wants. Merlin loves his relationship with Arthur, even on the bad days. 

He’s only ever wanted certainty of where they stand, he realizes. Which could only happen once the truth of his magic was revealed. Merlin has just grown tired of the way Arthur had constantly pushed him away and then pulled him even closer. It was enough to give anyone stress, nevermind Merlin who had been harboring an illegal secret.

“No,” he says finally. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that- I know it’s not true, I know you’re not- that we…” He can’t find the words and instead shakes his head. “It wasn’t fair and it’s not true. I was just angry.”

Arthur looks at him for a long time, so long that Merlin finally looks up again and quirks an eyebrow questioningly. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” The king looks away. “It’s really good to see you. Part of me-” He cuts himself off.

“What, Arthur?”

“I keep thinking you’re not real.” The king shrugs. “It’s like I imagined you so often and wished you were by my side all the time, so now I don’t trust myself to know it’s really you.”

“You’re a cabbagehead.” Merlin grins. “There. Is that proof enough?”

“For now.” Arthur shakes his head. “I could have you in the stocks for that.”

“You’re the king. You could burn me for it if you wanted.” Both of their smiles fall and Merlin feels that new weight fall between them again. “Arthur.”

“Yes?”

“I know I said I wouldn’t expect anything, and I still don’t, but there is something I need to know for moving forward.”

Arthur tenses, something almost like panic crossing his face. “What is it?”

“Is there anything you’re still mad at me for?” Merlin hurries to explain before Arhur can ask any of the questions obvious in his expression. “I just mean that if there, is we should talk about it now. Because if I can stay, if you really want me to, then I need to know everytime we argue or- or you push me away like you did last night- I need to know it’s not because you don’t trust me. That you don’t secretly resent me, or you’re still angry at me for being what I am.”

Inexplicably, as Merlin explained, Arthur actually seems to  _ relax _ . Which is… not what he had been expecting, given the question. At all. 

“I’m not mad at you. I mean it. In fact,” Arthur seems to laugh at himself and sinks down to sit on the edge of his bed as if he no longer has the strength to stand. “It didn’t take long before there was only thing left I was mad about, and I forgave that a long time ago. Because I understand it.”

“What’s that? Lying to you?” Merlin ventures. 

“No.” Arthur’s eyes are soft as he looks up and their gazes meet. “No, I understand why you lied. You said yourself that it was partially for me and that-” Arthur looks away, inhaling sharply. “That meant a lot. But in the end I wasn’t mad about that.”

“Then....?” He trails off waiting.

“The worst thing wasn’t that you’d revealed your magic and I made you leave.” Arthur looks back at him again. “It was that when I told you to go… you did. You really left. Over the years I gave you all those orders, Merlin, orders that you were more than happy to ignore and throw back in my face. But that one... you actually followed it. You left.”

Merlin swallows thickly. “Eventually I came back.”

Arthur smiles like he can’t help it. “Yeah. You did.”

And there’s so much more to say, so much more to address, but Merlin feels a tentative hope unfurl in himself that he’s too scared to crush. His emotions have been so up and down today that he doesn’t know if he can handle anything more. Especially not when he needs a decent night of sleep before what they’ll face tomorrow.

“Well.” He rocks back and forth on his feet. “Good. Great. I’m- that’s- yeah. Peachy.”

“Merlin.” That new tone is in Arthur’s voice again. The overwhelmingly fond one that makes it impossible for Merlin to look away from him. “You’re rambling. Like usual.”

Merlin snaps his mouth closed. Arthur smirks before growing serious again.

“Look, where are you sleeping tonight? Did you bring a tent?”

He hadn’t actually. Merlin hadn’t even thought of the possibility that it would snow, which in hindsight was silly, because it's nearing the thick of winter, and so he’s left without a place for the night. 

But he’s too proud to tell that to Arthur. Especially because, from the look on the king’s face, that is exactly the answer he was expecting.

“I thought maybe there’d be room with the knights. Gwaine-”

Something crosses Arthur’s face at the mention of Gwaine. “No.”

Merlin stops. “No?”

“I mean,” Arthur takes a deep breath. “You can sleep here. With me. If you want.” He finally looks away. “I doubt the knights will have room.”

“Oh.” Merlin supposes he should have anticipated that. Leon, Elyan, Percy, Gwaine and Lance made five after all, and none of them are exactly small. “Um, yeah, okay. If it’s not a problem.”

“It’s not.” Arthur stands up, paces along the side of the bed one way, and then stops. “I mean, it’s not an order-”

“I know.” Merlin interrupts before they can go down that road. Scrambling for anything to say he grasps the first thing he thinks of. “Where’s your manservant?

Arthur jerks. “What?”

“Your servant.” Merlin gestures vaguely. “It grew dark ages ago and you came in here quickly after. I thought they would have come to attend you before now. I mean I know I wasn’t the best, but I was better than that at least.” A thought strokes him and he grows a bit red. “Unless they’re waiting for me to leave?”

“No, Merlin.” Arthur is studiously avoiding looking at him now. Suddenly Merlin remembers what Gwen had told him, right before Arthur does. “After you left I never got another servant.”

There’s a lot of things Merlin could say or ask then. Things he wants to ask. 

But he and Arthur have already confessed so much tonight and honestly he’s growing exhausted. All of the things he wants to say to Arthur about this can wait until they’re safely back in Camelot.

So he just grins instead. “You mean you actually learned to dress yourself?”

“Yes,  _ Mer _ lin, I’m not actually helpless you know.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Merlin mutters while busy trying not to laugh at the thought of Arthur hauling and heating his own bath water.

There is no way he did that himself. Surely he brought in servants for that.

“I heard that.” Arthur snipes back but the annoyance isn’t genuine.

Merlin smiles to himself and plucks up a bit of courage to move towards the other man. “Alright then, come on.”

“Merlin?”

“As if I’d give you extra work to do the night before a big battle.” 

Merlin keeps his voice casual as he comes to stand in front of Arthur, their eyes meeting. Slowly, giving Arthur the chance to back away- though honestly Merlin isn’t sure what he’d do if the king did- he reaches out to grab the hem of Arthur’s shirt. 

“We can’t have our king overtaxing himself, can we?”

“Very funny,” Arthur replies, but what Merlin is sure was meant to be a snarky comment comes out sounding hoarse. They both pretend they hadn’t noticed.

“I am very humorous.” Merlin says as Arthur lifts his arms for him to slowly drag the shirt up and off him. 

Merlin’s hands tremble. Arthur is completely still in front of him. Their eyes lock as soon as the shirt is over his head and neither look away, the weight of memories pressing down on them.

“Very stupid, more like.” Arthur mutters and Merlin’s mouth twitches at the corners, though he’d deny it if Arthur had pointed it out.

“All part of my charm.” 

He calmly reaches out to press his hand against Arthur’s chest, pushing him gently back to sit on the bed again. He feels Arthur’s sharp intake of breath, feels the way his own skin warms immediately against Arthur’s, the jolt of something that almost feels like magic but isn’t that surges through his veins from the point of contact. 

He pulls his hand back, finally looking away towards Arthur’s boots. Without thinking he sinks to one knee and begins to pull them off, setting them at the side of the bed one by one. His movements are slow and he finds himself trying to savour this, wondering if it is the last time it will ever happen, only to look up and realize Arthur was watching him intensely, eyes dark, face unreadable.

It has taken longer than Merlin had realized. But Arthur hasn’t said a word.

“Socks.” He says stupidly and Arthur nods, giving his permission. 

The sound of the wind picking up outside reaches Merlin’s ears faintly, as does the whisper of the candles’ flames burning steadily away. Somehow the chill doesn’t seem to reach inside the tent, and Merlin isn’t even using magic.

Carefully he loops his fingers around Arthur’s left sock and drags it down and off. The tops of his fingers drag against his ankle slowly, and he sees and feels Arthur shiver, even though he’s busy looking down to watch what he’s doing. 

He stuffs the sock in its accompanying boot and then moves to grasp the right one. This time he uses his thumbs to catch the top of the sock, allowing the pads of his fingers to splay lightly against Arthur’s skin, before gently pulling that sock off too and putting it away.

“There.” 

His voice is quiet and he wonders what is on his face to make Arthur look at him like that before deciding he’s probably better off not knowing. He was still staring at him with that look in his eyes.

“Just trousers now.”

“I think I’ll leave them on for tonight.” Arthur replies quickly, toes curling in the furs spread around his bed. “It is cold, after all.”

“Right.” The moment is broken and Merlin moves back immediately. “Um.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, standing and moving to hurriedly get in the bed after taking off his belt. “Get a move on, Merlin, I do want some sleep tonight.”

“Right,” he repeats, practically yanking off his shirt and shoes to match Arthur’s pace. Though he instantly regrets it because then they are both lying quietly side by side in the well lit tent, each of them keenly aware of the foot or so of space between them and the peripheral view they have of each other.

“The candles,” Merlin says after a moment of silently chastising himself for his stupidity. He sits up, moving to get out of the bed to blow them out, but Arthur stops him by resting a hand on his arm.

“Can’t you just…” he gestures strangely. “You know.”

Merlin stares at him blankly.

“Magic them out?”

“Oh!” Merlin blinks. “Really?”

Arthur pulls his hand back to himself. Merlin hadn’t even noticed it was still on him. “Yeah. Why not, with it being legal now and everything.”

When had  _ that  _ become official, Merlin wonders, but he grins anyway. “Okay.”

His voice is soft, and he glances at Arthur one more time to make sure before whispering the incantation.

He hears Arthur’s gasp, and feels the weight of his gaze on him, and he glances over only to see a bare glimpse of him in the nearest lit candles that his spell had spared. 

“Your eyes,” Arthur whispers in the near darkness. “I thought- that day in the forest, I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it.”

“Oh, right.” Merlin lifts his hand to touch the corner of his eye. “Yeah, they do that.”

Arthur seems speechless for a second before he clears his throat. “Okay.”

There’s nothing else to say, not that Merlin could think of anyway, and so he lies back down and tucks himself in quickly to keep the heart under the furs. He’s careful to keep that foot of space between them as he does, but he can’t stop himself from turning his head to look over at Arthur. 

It’s not completely surprising anymore to find Arthur already watching him.

“Be careful tomorrow.” Merlin whispers, feeling the need to say something despite how tired they both are. 

But it’s finally dawning on him that this could be their last night alive and there’s too much for them to say. So much he needs to say.

He sees Arthur’s smile. “I will be, Merlin.”

“No, I mean…” He bites his lip. “I know you and Mordred became friends. But you need to be careful of him.”

He watches Arthur’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Why? Because of his magic?”

“Not only that.” He takes a deep breath. “One of the things Kilgarrah told me years ago was that it’s Mordred’s destiny to be the one who kills you.”

Arthur says nothing.

“I’ll do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He says quickly. “As long as I’m near you he won’t get the opportunity. He won’t even have a chance of looking at you-”

“Merlin.” Arthur reaches out again to grab him gently. “No matter how powerful you are you can’t stop everything.”

“I can.” Taking the risk he reaches to grasp the hand Arthur is holding him with. “For you I can.”

“Merlin.” Arthur sounds tiredly affectionate. Merlin knows it’s probably just the exhaustion, otherwise he would have said Arthur sounded loving. “I’m prepared for whatever will happen to me. It’s the rest of you I want safe. You and Camelot. I need you to be careful tomorrow. Don’t put yourself in too much danger.”

“Arthur-”

“Shh. We’ll go over battle plans and strategies first thing tomorrow. You can help us with those defenses you mentioned. Right now the best thing we can do is get some sleep.”

Merlin swallows, knowing he is probably right. “Fine.”

They fall quiet once more, but again he thinks of how one or both of them might not make it through the day tomorrow, and the thought makes his chest squeeze tight, makes his breath quicken in something like fear.

There’s one thing left for him to share. One last secret Merlin wants to tell him. His final confession. 

But if anything would distract Arthur tonight and tomorrow it would be Merlin confessing how he really feels. And the last thing Merlin wants is his love being the very thing that makes Arthur vulnerable to attack.

Still, right now, lying in Arthur’s bed with the king only a foot away, Merlin’s willpower is almost nonexistent. He’d never thought he’d get anything like this again, not really. Merlin was optimistic enough to think maybe in time Arthur would forgive him, allow him back into the castle and let him stick around, but the closeness they’d had… Merlin had feared it was gone forever after that day in the forest outside Camelot. 

Now his treacherous heart is pushing him to think otherwise. 

“Arthur,” Merlin starts, ready to break, to just lay it all out for Arthur to do what he wants with, distractions be damned, but it’s as if Arthur knows exactly what he’s thinking because his eyes flutter back open. With a serious look on his face he takes Merlin in, cataloging every part of his expression.

And then his eyes crinkle as he shakes his head with a soft fond smile.

“After.” He says, and it’s half request, half order. “Give me something to look forward to.”

Merlin cocks an eyebrow, all the while ignoring how his stomach flutters. “You don’t have a clue what I’m about to say.”

But the look on Arthur’s face says he does, or at least the general idea. Feelings have never been their forte, but neither of them are exactly subtle when it came to needing to talk about them. 

“Whatever it is I’m sure I’ll tease you for it mercilessly. That’s bound to cheer me up, just a little.”

Merlin can’t stop his smile. “Prat.”

Arthur’s face stays soft and happy as he closes his eyes again. “Goodnight, Merlin.”

Merlin stares at him, taking everything in, memorizing it all with every bit of concentration he has.

“Night.” He whispers back finally, but by then Arthur is already fast asleep. He’s even shifted to close the gap between them a bit.

Merlin closes his eyes to sleep as well. But before he finally falls into unconsciousness he has enough thought left to move forward too until the foot between them has been closed to barely an inch.

Then he dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as it broke our hearts to have Arthur keep Merlin away for a bit we did it for the drama and we hope you all forgive us. 
> 
> We cannot believe there's only one more chapter and then the epilogue. It's so crazy we're almost done, hopefully you guys are able to bear with us until the end. Thank you for your amazing comments and support <3
> 
> Come talk to us on Tumblr or in the comments! And if you have any suggestions for other fics you'd like to see in this universe please let us know since we're planning so many other fics for this series!
> 
> Title for this chapter is from the song Carry You by Ruelle ft. Fleurie


	11. i sleep a little deeper when i'm next to you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hands you this and runs away*  
> (chapter title from the song Next to You by Little Big Town)

That morning is full of hurriedly shouted orders and a bustling of movement throughout the camp. Merlin is stuck in intense talks with Arthur and the knights about their battle plans. He’s consulted just as much as the rest of them; more even, given that he has the ability to help in places without physically needing to be there. Leon in particular grills him to the bone about the things he’s capable of, learning everything about the most minute spell, like stirring up snow in an opponents eyes, to the biggest. 

Merlin feels a moment of guilt for not doing this with them all last night when they had more time, but none of the others seem to begrudge this. They always have a final debrief before battle. This time they just have more new information to accommodate.

By the end Merlin is standing around the hastily drawn plans beside the other men with nothing else to share. They know everything he’s capable of and he can see Arthur and Leon’s brains working to come up with new uses for his magic that Merlin could probably never even dream up himself. He glances to Percy and Gwaine, who are off to the side having a very brief but apparently intense conversation, and then to Elyan and Lance who are muttering and moving the small figurines representing the soldiers around with serious expressions on their faces.

Merlin’s struck one last time with the threat that they might not all make it out of this today. The chances are high that at least one of them will be killed, and he knows they’ve made it out of battles and tough scrapes before, but something about today just feels different. The stakes feel higher, their enemy is more threatening, just because it’s Morgana and Mordred they’ll be facing, and Merlin’s heart just clenches.

Eventually however they can’t delay it any longer. One of Arthur’s squires, a young pimply boy with straw brown hair, sticks his head into the tent and gets their attention.

“It’s time my lord. The troops are ready to march.”

Grimness settles on Arthur’s features and he nods. “Thank you, Thomas.”

The boy leaves and Arthur turns to look at them all, taking a deep breath. “Ready men?”

The knights all nod. Merlin just meets Arthur’s stare, trying to convey that he is in this all the way. That Arthur doesn’t have to worry about him.

Arthur nods again as if he understands. “Let’s go.”

The file out silently and Merlin shares nods with each of the knights as they go to mount their horses at the head of their battalions. Frost and a thin layer of snow lies on the trees and ground and Merlin’s breath fogs a bit in the air. The weather is overcast with light clouds and Merlin thinks there’s a good chance the sun will melt all of the snow by the end of the day.

Merlin doesn’t break off with the others. He walks with Arthur to the head of his squad and stands with him by their readied horses at the front of the entire army. 

Their shoulders brush. Arthur glances over, his blonde hair swept away from his face, his armour hard against Merlin’s hand as they accidently touch. 

“What do you think? Glazed pig for the feast when we get back?”

Merlin doesn’t show his surprise at the random topic. Instead he looks ahead at the few trees separating them from the impending battlefield. “As long as I don’t have to serve it to you I’ll be happy.”

Arthur snorts, making Merlin smile. Then the king turns to him fully, and Merlin looks back, understanding flowing between them.

He stays still as Arthur reaches out to right his too-large chainmail- hastily acquired from someone’s stores, for which Merlin is grateful- on him by straightening it across his shoulders and chest.

“I’ll need to give you some proper armour when we get back.” He sounds like he’s almost speaking to himself as he mutters slightly, face creasing in concentration. His palms rest against Merlin’s chest a little too long once he’s done with his task. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Me in armour?”

“True. You’re so skinny it would probably fall right off. No muscle on you at all.” Arthur concedes, hands falling back to his sides and a strange mixture of longing and regret on his face. “But you need something. New clothes, state robes.” His mouth twitches. “A pointy hat.”

“Don’t you dare.” Merlin threatens. “Besides, why would I need all that? Even servants to the king don’t wear anything better than hand-me-downs.”

Arthur frowns at him. “But you’re not going to be my servant anymore. You’re going to be Camelot’s Court Sorcerer.”

“ _ What _ ?”

The way Arthur looks at him like he’s stupid does not endear him to Merlin. “Did I not mention that?”

“You definitely did not!”

“Oh. Woops.”

Merlin scrambles for the words. It’s difficult, given that his brain feels useless and stuck on a repeating loop of the memory of what Arthur has just said. “Arthur Pendragon you are…”

Arthur grins at him brilliantly as he waits. “I’m...?”

“Impossible.” Merlin finishes stupidly, staring at him while feeling completely floored. “Impulsive. A clotpole, the biggest dollophead to dollop.”

“Ah, ah.” Arthur wags a finger at him. “Nobles don’t speak to one another in that way, Merlin. You’ll have to learn all of that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Court etiquette, manners, how to dress, how to eat, who to bow to and address first- that’s always me, by the way- and how much everybody else is worth-”

“You’re joking.” Merlin feels all the blood drain from his face. “You’re actually joking, right?”

“Never.” Arthur’s grin is wicked. “We have so much to look forward to when we get back.”

That jolts Merlin into remembering exactly where they are and he blinks, glancing back at the rows upon rows of armed men standing and waiting for them. He looks to one side and sees the knights and their men waiting for the two of them to mount up and begin the march, and he looks past Arthur to see the rest doing the same.

A swell of appreciation for Arthur fills him. All it had taken was a few words but Arthur has already made Merlin feel loads better than he has in weeks, just by giving him something to be excited about. 

But looking back at the king now he sees the tight corners of Arthur’s eyes and mouth, and the way his fists are clenched. Though Arthur had been amused too, it isn’t enough to lift the weight of what is about to happen off of them entirely.

“Hey.” Merlin says softly. “Whatever happens today I believe in you. We all do. This is for Camelot and you’re the only ruler she’ll accept. You’re going to win.”

Arthur looks at him in surprise. “How can you sound so sure?”

“Because it’s you.” Merlin says. “Besides, what would be the point in putting me through all of those lessons on how to be a noble if you weren’t around to see it and tease me?” 

“Well that’s true.” Arthur looks appreciative and clasps his shoulder one last time. “Are you ready?”

Merlin nods. “Ready.”

“Then let’s go.” He turns and mounts his horse, and only after Melin has done the same and they’re sitting side by side does Arthur unsheathe Excalibur and hold it high in the air to yell loudly, “move out!”

So they advance, almost entirely quiet except for the breathing of the horses and their hoofbeats and the clanking of the men’s armour. 

“Look ahead,” Arthur asks Merlin softly, and with a whispered spell Merlin does.

The half of the clearing nearest them is empty but the rest is full of Morgana and Mordred’s men. Both of them sit on new horses in front, probably taken from a couple of their men, and both of them look deathly pale but determined. 

Merlin guesses about a third of their men are on horses, which gives Arthur slightly better odds. 

“They’re waiting,” he replies finally. “I don’t expect there will be any terms or chances of surrender.”

And he is right. As soon as they make it through the trees into the clearing Morgana’s eyes find Arthur and never look away. Something manic and dangerous is in her expression, something mad and cruel, and Merlin tightens his grip on his reins. 

He sees her mouth move, sees the way she clenches Mordred’s hand as if for strength, and before Merlin can think he throws up a protective spell around Arthur. Barely a moment later he feels something hit it, causing green sparks to appear briefly only a foot or so from Arthur. 

It makes his horse skitter nervously, and Merlin sees Arthur regain control of him and glance his way in his periphery, but he is too busy watching as Morgana yells something in anger and turns her attention to him.

Now her expression positively blazes in anger and he sees her lip curl. 

Merlin smiles back, adopting the cold and confident mask he’s only worn infrequently in the past. But if there is ever a time to overplay his confidence in his own abilities it’s now. Morgana will be more vulnerable the more frightened she is. More desperate.

He watches Mordred say something to her urgently, sees her shake him off roughly but nod before turning back to look at her men.

“Now,” Merlin says to Arthur, still watching the two sorcerers. “Don’t wait. Charge. They’re coming.”

Arthur doesn’t even hesitate, only lifts his sword again to call “for Camelot!” 

Then he and Merlin are kicking their horses forwards and leading their army in a rush to meet the soldiers screaming and running towards them.

It is a bloodbath immediately. There is nothing beautiful or poetic about it. These soldiers are cold, some are wet, many are hungry and tired and far from home. Desperate men shove together like fish in a too-small pond, desperately trying to fight their way through one another to find their way out.

Horses stampede men and men stab the horses accidentally with their spears, causing screams and whinnies of pain to sound immediately. 

Merlin is pulled from his horse almost immediately and is winded as he crashes to the hard ground. Still he scrambles up and away from an incoming spear, throwing his hand out to push the attacker away, before desperately searching the sea of men for Arthur’s helmeted head. 

“Emrys.”

He whirls around just in time to dodge Mordred’s throw of fire. Merlin grits his teeth, ignoring the nearby yells of frightened men, and takes advantage of the newly vacated space he and Mordred now occupy to throw a spell back at him. 

Just like last time everybody is getting out of their way. None of the men want to be caught in a battle between sorcerers.

But Merlin is distracted, he needs to find Arthur, needs to get by his side to protect him because Morgana is nowhere to be seen and that could mean-

He’s thrown backwards and hits the ground again, head cracking against the earth. His teeth clack hard and he tastes coppery blood from a cut on his lip. For a moment he stares up at the sky above them helplessly. For a moment he forgets where he is.

It’s an angry yell from Arthur that saves him. He lifts his head in time to see the king rushing towards Mordred, sword drawn, and he blinks in confusion when instead of attacking him with magic Mordred just unsheathes his own sword to fight back.

Merlin gets up as quick as he can, ready to intercede, but the two men are quickly clashing swords. He hears Arthur’s voice even from where he stands.

“Your grievance is with me. Leave Merlin out of it.”

“I will kill any who stand by your side.” Mordred hisses, face contorted in what looks like pain, despite the fact that he is physically unharmed. “You are a hypocrite, Arthur Pendragon. Kara was murdered for having magic and being who she was, and yet you allow Emrys to stay with you in Camelot- to use him for your own ends-”

“Kara was killed for trying to kill me.” Arthur pushes Mordred back and they begin to circle one another. “You know that. She confessed to us all.”

“She fought for our people! To be free, so we could live without fear. But you killed her for that.”

Arthur blocks Mordred’s swing with a grunt. “She was too full of hate to see that I offered her forgiveness.”

“She was scared!” Mordred screams.

Just then Merlin picks up a fallen sword to stop one of Morgana’s men from running at them and stabbing Arthur in the back. He surprises himself by dispatching the man so quickly, and scans the area for anyone else who might try to catch Arthur unaware.

“It was my life or hers, Mordred!” Arthur tries to reason with him. “You must see that.”

Mordred bares his teeth. “I would have chosen hers.”

Then they truly begin to fight, their swords swinging and slashing quickly, moving so quickly Merlin can barely keep up. Suddenly it strikes him that Arthur is the one who trained Mordred, who knighted him and fought by his side. 

They know one another. Arthur’s tricks, his strategies and way of thinking, Mordred knows all of that. As good as Arthur is, Merlin was suddenly terrified it won’t be enough.

Just as he’s about to go to help Arthur, a hand grips him and he’s hurled aside. Something cuts at his side, hitting his chainmail, and he grunts.

He doesn’t recognize the face above him, but he does see the bared teeth and rage in the man’s eyes. Before Merlin can think anything he’s muttering his spell and his dropped sword lifts into the air and flies forward to imbed itself into the man’s neck. Blood sprays and Merlin turns away, feeling bile in his throat as the body thumps beside him.

Shakily he stands again, grabbing the man’s dropped sword rather than retrieving his from where it sticks out. Just in time too, because another man comes running towards him and he blocks his sword’s blow. And once Merlin finishes him off he’s followed by another. Then another.

Dawn breaks and the sun gets in his current enemy’s eyes enough to give Merlin a chance to stab him and get away. He’s exhausted, his arms are shaking, his chest heaving, and he feels too much liquid warmth on his face for it to all be sweat and tears. He lost Arthur long ago, and no matter how much he tries to fight to find him again he hasn’t caught a glimpse. 

He has spied Morgana though, and it’s to see her fighting not only Leon, but Lance, Elyan and Gwaine too. He’d even stopped her from striking Lance with a mortal blow by making her sword fly from her hands. 

Again she’d screamed in frustration but the others had rushed at her and she’d cut off quickly. Merlin had gotten distracted by the nearest enemy soldier and soon lost sight of them all. 

He doesn’t know how many hours pass. He hears Morgana yell nearby “Stand aside, Leon, I only want to get to Arthur!” but something hits him on the head before he can get closer to them to intercede. He crumples, the helmet that had hit him falling in front of his eyes, and it’s a while before he gets up again.

Miraculously though, he does, blinking awake blearily, feeling dazed. It might have been moments. Maybe much longer. But he checks himself for wounds and finds no new ones except perhaps a few bruises on his arms and legs from where soldiers have kicked and stood on him. 

Once more he gets to his feet and this time panic is clawing at him. What has he missed? They’re still fighting, which most likely means Arthur and the others aren’t dead, but there’s a chance- maybe…

No. He stands and blinks in time to see the protective circle of Camelot cloaks standing around him. As his vision clears and he stops panicking long enough to actually take in his surroundings he finds Leon and the others standing over him, shoulder to shoulder, fighting off attackers.

“Merlin!” Gwaine glimpses him first. “Thank the gods, we’d thought we’d lost you.”

“Where’s Arthur?” He can’t help it being the first thing that comes from his mouth. As he takes in the familiar faces around him he notices that only one is missing. “Where?”

Gwaine’s face shutters. “He’s still with Mordred. The little rat won’t let anyone else near them.”

Merlin grits his teeth. It has been far too long for them to be fighting one another. As little as Merlin knows, he does know  _ that _ . Either Mordred is toying with Arthur or neither of them can find it in themselves to deal the killing blow, but Merlin is done waiting for them. This needs to end.

He speaks the incantation and all of the enemies around them are thrown back and knocked out cold, giving them a moment to speak. 

“I need to get to them.”

Leon nods, pointing. “They’re there. Hurry, I think Arthur-”

“Merlin!” It’s Morgana yelling, and he whirls around to see her stalking their way, throwing her hand out to push Camelot’s soldiers away from her and ducking and dodging blows when necessary. “Don’t hide behind the others, come and face me yourself!”

She looks exhausted and haggard, and Merlin sees the way she has to resort to physically dodging attacking knights. 

Morgana is saving her strength and trying not to cast spells but she is still an amazing swordswoman. Her blade gleams in her hand as she quickly moves towards him, cutting down anyone who gets in her way almost too easily, as if they are nothing. 

Their eyes meet briefly. Hers gleam, glowing bright green with vindictive fury.

But Merlin has bigger priorities than that. He looks at Leon. “Can you hold her off? I need to get to him.”

Leon’s face is blank but something painful is in his eyes as they ignore Morgana’s mad shrieking. “Yes. Go.”

“Thank you.” He says to them all, holding Gwaine and Lance’s eyes longest, nodding to Percy and Elyan, before throwing up a quick barrier to hold Morgana off and turning to run to where Arthur and Mordred are.

She will be able to break the protective spell in seconds, Merlin knows, but at least it is something.

And he knows he’s made the right decision as soon as he catches sight of Arthur and Mordred. Sweat is pouring off of them and the sun glints off their armour. Mordred looks almost expressionless but Arthur looks like he’s in pain.

The crowd has thinned considerably already and far too many Camelot cloaks lie on the ground around them. Morgana yells again behind him and Merlin glances back just in time to see Leon, Lance, Gwaine and the others go flying to land on their backs. Merlin cries out but the only one he sees so much as twitch is Percy. The rest don’t move and soon bodies move in Merlin’s line of vision to block his sight.

He turns back just in time to see Arthur stumble and fall backwards, Mordred standing above him. He expects the king to try and get up immediately, to fight back, but he doesn’t.

Instead he lies there on the ground, panting, with his eyes closed in a grimace, and Merlin feels his heart stop.

With startling clarity, Merlin realizes that Arthur isn’t going to fight back; he’s giving up. He chokes on a shocked gasp and begins to make his way toward the two men, locking eyes with Arthur who glances over. Something pained crosses his expression, and the blonde man mouths something that looks suspiciously like  _ I’m sorry _ , and- 

_ -no _ . 

Merlin breaks out into a run and begins hurling spells at the enemies that stand in his way. He’s mere feet from Arthur and Mordred when he sees Mordred begin to lift his sword high above his head, ready to deliver the killing blow to the king.

_ No _ .

“ _ Mordred _ !” He yells to the black-haired boy. 

It breaks the focus that the Druid has on his task for just a moment, but it’s only a moment that Merlin needs to whisper the spell words that send him flying backwards. He hits the ground, going still, and Merlin only has a moment to spare to think about whether or not he’s killed him.

Arthur watches this whole exchange and lets out a pained noise when Mordred hits the ground, regret lancing across his face, before he turns to watch Merlin. Only two feet away from one another, Merlin can see every emotion that he’s feeling reflected in Arthur’s eyes. Anger, anguish, remorse, sadness, shock.

_ Shock? _

Suddenly Merlin feels an invisible force throwing him down on the ground in front of Arthur, and then the same force pushes Arthur back down as well. Heeled boots start to slowly walk in front of them and Merlin immediately knows who it is. 

His eyes close. Defeat rushes through him strongly and he’s just so  _ tired _ . He allowed himself to be distracted for one moment and now it’s too late. She’s made it to them. 

Morgana. 

He hears her  _ tsk _ , and with the last of his strength he tries to lift his head to meet her eyes.

“Shame, I really  _ liked _ Mordred.” 

Her feet pause in front of Merlin and she takes a step forward to place her weight upon his hand. He utters a grunt of pain and hears Arthur thrashing around beside him, trying to break the hold of Morgana’s spell.

“Morgana,  _ please _ , just let him go. It’s my throne you want, it’s  _ me _ you want dead.”

Merlin makes a noise of protest. “ _ What _ ? No!”

He can hear Morgana snort, and it’s a noise that reminds him so much of the woman he was once friends with that a pang of sadness goes through him.

“You two. So  _ noble _ , so  _ brave _ . Always willing to die for one another. It would be precious if it wasn’t so  _ stupid _ .”

“Morgana,  _ please _ .” Arthur pleads, again.

She hums and pauses as if considering it. “... No. I think I’ll kill you both. Merlin is much too loyal to you.”

This sets off Arthur’s struggling once more, except this time… it works. He rises to his knees and then manages to stand up completely. Merlin glances up at Morgana and sees that her eyes have widened, staring at Arthur in shock and something akin to fear.

_ Wait _ .

Merlin realizes that Arthur’s success at breaking Morgana’s spell causes her to break her focus, thus breaking her hold on Merlin. Arthur has already picked up his sword again and is pointing it at Morgana’s throat, and as he does Merlin utters a spell to make sure she is unable to speak before he gets up off of the ground as well. He walks the few steps it takes to stand by Arthur’s side and meets Morgana’s eyes.

"It's over, Morgana." He sounds sad to his own ears. "Surrender."

She stares at them both, green eyes flickering from one face to the other. 

"To you two?" Her lip curls. "Never."

"Morgana, please." Arthur begs. "There's already been too much death today. You're the only family I have left and I don't want to lose you."

But she shakes her head. 

"You lost me a long time ago, Arthur. The moment I told Uther what I was and you sat by and said nothing to help me. Nothing to defend me from the things he said."

Merlin stares between them, unsure of what she's referring to, but he sees the way Arthur's face twists in pain. Obviously this is something he had missed in his exile. Though he vaguely remembers Morgana mentioning something like this when she first came to him in Rowanhurst, he can't recall any details. 

As they both watch she lifts her head, jutting out her chin in pure defiance. "The only way you'll stop me is if you kill me. And no mortal blade can kill a High Priestess."

Quicker than he's ever moved before, Merlin takes the blade from Arthur's hand and runs her through, making her gasp out.

"This is no mortal blade." He says lowly. "This was forged in dragon's breath, and made by Gwen's own father." 

Her eyes find his, wide with shock and pain. 

"Gwen?"

So much pain. 

He swallows, pushing the blade in deeper. "You have always had people who loved you, Morgana. Gwen and Arthur more than anybody." Merlin takes a breath. "But the bloodshed has to end, and I need to protect them. They could never kill you themselves, but I won't let you put anyone in danger anymore."

He pulls Excalibur free and she drops to the ground, gasping for breath as blood pools on the dirty snow around her body. The blade points to the ground, dripping crimson, and Merlin feels a soft part of himself crack at the sight of his former friend dying at his feet. 

"Goodbye, Morgana." 

It's final and cold and he turns back to Arthur who is watching in shock as Morgana takes her last breath. When Merlin glances down one last time he sees her looking small, pale and broken, staring emptily up at the sky. 

Suddenly his knees give out beneath him. He feels himself quake and he let's go of Excalibur as if the metal burns. 

It may be his imagination but he feels as if it does.

"Merlin!"

Arthur moves to kneel at his side and grips his shoulder tightly, shaking him anxiously, trying to get a response. 

"I'm sorry." Merlin gasps, arms wrapped around himself as he stares down at the ground. Cold seeps through his trousers. "I'm sorry. I couldn't let you do it. It would have wrecked you."

"You fool." Arthur sounds more worried than Merlin's ever heard before. "Anything could have- she could have used magic on you." 

"I knew you couldn't do it." Merlin repeats. 

He doesn't sound judgemental or disappointed. He says it as it is: a fact. He doesn't blame Arthur for it and he never could. In fact, he slightly blames himself, even though it had been the only possible way to end all of this. 

"I knew you wouldn't have been able to live with yourself."

"I could have." Arthur sounds grim. He tilts Merlin's chin so they are finally eye to eye again. "For you I could have. It would have haunted me- it will haunt me, what's happened between us- but I would have stopped her for you. The same way you have for me." 

Merlin's eyes slip closed momentarily. 

"I'm so tired, Arthur." He inhales shakily, the image of Morgana and Mordred stark behind his eyelids. "Is it over?"

"Almost." 

The king strongly pulls Merlin up to stand at his side and he looks around to see astonished and terrified faces staring back at the two of them. Morgana lies dead at their feet. 

Arthur turns to the remaining soldiers on the field, both his own and Morgana’s, and speaks loudly enough for most of them to hear. 

"I will grant mercy to those who lay down their arms. I have no quarrel with you, and any disapproval you hold for me would be better sorted through peaceful negotiation than battle." Merlin feels him glance over at him. "We are tired and weary from loss. All of us have loved ones to grieve, whether friend or family, and there are wounded to tend to. I do not wish to be responsible for further harm." 

He takes another shaky breath that Merlin feels from being held up by Arthur's arm around his waist. "I am not my father. My rule will be different, just as my views are different. Including my opinions on magic." 

Merlin looks up at him.

"Magic is legal in Camelot. Though it will take time to enact the legislation officially, it is known I no longer condemn sorcerers to death or persecute them simply for being who they are. In fact," he glances at Merlin again, meeting his eyes. "I owe magic users a great debt, and would not be standing here today without them.

"In the meantime any sorcerers will be treated as a normal citizen of Camelot. Harmful and destructive magic will be punished, as it is elsewhere, but innocent people will no longer die for simply being born as they are. If any of you are magic users you have nothing to fear from me."

They wait but it doesn't take long before one man throws down his sword. And then another follows suit, and one more, until quickly there isn't one man left standing in the clearing with his weapons drawn.

Merlin breathes out in relief. So does Arthur. 

They've done it. They really have. The two of them made it, they're alive-

Merlin's throat tightens. The knights! 

He turns and looks around, dreading what he'll find, but he sees them all standing side by side at the front of the crowd with proud smiles and happy faces as they watch the two of them.

It's then that Merlin's eyes fall on Mordred and slowly he extricates himself from Arthur to walk over and fall to his knees by the man's side.

He's not breathing and there's no other sign of life in him. Mordred is dead. 

He feels Arthur come to a stop beside him. 

"I helped save him all those years ago, even when I knew what he would become." Merlin sounds choked. "Only for me to kill him now." 

He closes his eyes and sees the young boy from his memory, eyes wide and scared as he hid in Morgana's chambers and ran through the secret tunnels of Camelot. A young boy who had only wanted to be accepted, just like Merlin. 

"He chose his side." Arthur says but when Merlin looks up he sees the grief the king feels. The other knights slowly come forward to stand around the body with them.

"Alright there, Merlin?" Gwaine asks and Merlin scans them all, nodding. 

"Fine. Better to see all of you here." 

"It'll take more than that to knock us out." Percy grins but he looks just as exhausted as the rest of them and he's studiously avoiding looking at the body at their feet.

"Don't tempt fate." Merlin warns seriously.

"Sire?" Leon inquires cautiously.

"I'm fine, Leon." Arthur replies. "You're all unharmed?"

"A few cuts and bruises." Lancelot returns. "But all in all we were lucky."

"Very lucky." Elyan says.

Arthur just nods, looking around the battlefield. "Tend to the wounded. Set up camp." 

He looks down at Mordred and then back at Morgana. 

"And build a pyre for the dead."

"Yes, Sire," they all reply before walking off. 

Merlin gets shakily to his feet too. "I'll help."

"No, Merlin." Arthur is gentle as he stops him. "I want you to sleep."

"But-"

"Sleep." Arthur brooks no argument. "You deserve it."

Merlin looks back at him steadily. "So do you." 

It takes a second but Arthur dips his head slightly in agreement. "As soon as this lot can manage themselves." 

"But-"

"Go." Arthur cuts off his last attempt at talking. "It's not a suggestion, Merlin, it's an order. Go now. I'll join you when I can."

And it is only because the depth of his exhaustion catches up with him that Merlin finally nods, vowing to hold Arthur to his word or come after him if necessary. With one last gentle push from Arthur he turns to head towards camp, not even pausing to think before entering Arthur's tent and collapsing on his bed.

He is asleep in moments.

* * *

Back at their camp, they’re joined by their new allies (magic and non magic alike) who have sworn an oath to not do anything to harm Camelot. Merlin wakes up to the sound of a full camp of soldiers going on with their lives outside of the tent he’s in.

“-many have been poisoned by Morgana’s thoughts about you and Uther, but your actions on the field seem to have convinced them to give you a chance-”

As Merlin finally focuses on his surroundings- Arthur’s bed, in Arthur’s tent, facing the small table now empty of plans- he looks over to see Arthur sitting in a chair in tired relief as Percy speaks to him and Leon.

But Arthur isn’t watching Percy, he’s watching Merlin, and as soon as Merlin wakes up he watches the king lift a hand, making Percy fall quiet immediately.

“Merlin.” 

Arthur doesn’t have the tone Merlin expects. There’s no hint of annoyance that Merlin has slept for so long- how much time has gone by, anyway?- or that he’s done it in his bed and tent without bothering to try and help with the fallout of everything that has happened today. Percy and Leon don’t look surprised at all to see him there, they just give him small smiles when they look over to watch him sit up and take them all in.

Merlin licks his lips and clears his throat. “What’s going on?”

“We have new men to train.” Leon answers when it becomes apparent Arthur isn’t going to. “A lot of them.”

Merlin blinks. “Oh.”

Percy’s face is knowing as he looks between Merlin and Arthur. 

“But we’ve sorted out all we can for now.” Merlin sees him nudge Leon even though the other knight hadn’t made a sound. “And it’s been a while, we should check on the others…’

Merlin frowns. “Are they okay?”

“Yes, fine. Everyone’s fine. Just tired.” Leon watches him with concern. “How are you, Merlin?”

“Better now.” Merlin rolls his neck and stretches with a yawn. “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

Arthur makes a strangled noise which makes Merlin look back over at him with a confused frown. Meanwhile Percy elbows Leon again, this time much harder, making the curly-haired man grunt. 

“Right, well it’s great you’re alright Merlin.” Percy smiles and begins to back up. “But Leon and I need to get going, can’t leave Gwaine alone for too long, you know how it is.”

“Alright.” Merlin is still befuddled and watches both knights leave hastily as if they were being run out of the tent by something chasing them. Once they’re gone Merlin turns to Arthur. 

“What the hell was that?”

“Oh I don’t know, Merlin.” Arthur retorts, looking very unhappy. “Maybe they don’t want to keep you up when it’s obvious you need more rest.”

Merlin stares at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You!” Arthur stands up and Merlin, uncomfortable with being looked down upon, gets up from lying in Arthur’s bed to stand too. It only makes the king look more irritated. “You’re exhausted, Merlin. You overstretched yourself.”

Merlin shakes his head. “No I didn’t.”

“Merlin, you nearly passed out on that battlefield. If I hadn’t made you come in here you probably would have.” His blue eyes flash and Merlin feels himself start to get angry. These accusations not only seem unfair, it’s like they’re coming out of nowhere. “You need to know your limits.”

“I do!” He protests. “Arthur, come on, I know myself well enough-”

“You don’t have any injuries.” Arthur cuts him off. “No physical ones, anyway. Yet when I came in here you were dead to the world. For all I knew you were in a coma and were never going to wake up.”

“A coma?” Merlin laughs. “Don’t be stupid, I was just tired, that’s all. But I’m better now-”

“Are you?” Arthur whirls back around accusingly. “Because it seems to me that you used too much magic and pushed yourself too far. Now who knows how long you’ll be recovering.”

“I’m fine.” Arthur scoffs and Merlin crosses his arms. “Arthur, I feel fine.”

“This can’t happen again.” Arthur begins to pace. “I need to know that you’re going to be alright, that you can handle yourself. You shouldn’t put yourself in situations if they’re too much for you.”

“What are you  _ talking  _ about?”

“I’m talking about Mordred and Morgana!” Arthur yells. “You took them on yourself Merlin, even though it was two against one, even though they could have overpowered you-”

“I couldn’t just stand by and watch them kill you!” Merlin splutters incredulously. “Arthur, what’s the problem, we did it, you won-”

“You tried to sacrifice yourself for me.” Arthur interrupts. “By taking them on alone, you tried to deal with them yourself, you could have died, and Merlin-”

“And I’m the only one?” Merlin interrupts furiously. “Arthur, you can’t get mad at me for doing  _ exactly what you did _ . Especially when out of the two of us I’m the one with magic!”

“You tried to get between Morgana and I!”

“Well you were spouting rubbish about letting her kill you in return for my life and Camelot’s safety.”

“And it might have worked! Or at least it had the chance to, before you tried to save me and nearly got yourself knocked out in the process. Merlin, you absolute  _ idiot _ , what were you thinking?”

“Me? Why would  _ you  _ do that?”

“She wanted  _ me _ dead. If I died today, she may have spared everyone else.”

Merlin splutters incredulously, not sure if Arthur is trying to be funny or if he had finally outdone himself in trying to be stupidly honourable. “Wow, you really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

Arthur’s face darkens. “I am your  _ king _ and you will address me with the respect I am owed.”

“You aren’t owed any respect when you make stupid decisions like that!”

“Who are you to question my decisions?” 

“Someone who loves you!”

Arthur is already replying before Merlin finishes speaking. “Oh,  _ really _ , is that  _ s _ \- wait. What did you just say?”

Merlin bites his own tongue slightly to stop himself from saying anything else that will only make things worse. 

But then, he thinks to himself; what could be worse? He’s told Arthur about his magic and he’s already been rejected and pushed away. What more will Arthur do now that he knows Merlin’s other secret? He’d been planning on telling him after the battle anyway, and even though this wasn’t exactly the moment Merlin had planned for, it is the moment he’s getting apparently.

So he squares his shoulders, looks Arthur right in the eye and replies, “I  _ said  _ that I love you, you absolute prat. God knows  _ why _ , but I do, and I have for years.”

“You- right.” Arthur’s arms drop to his side and he seems to struggle to speak, or even make his mind process what Merlin has just said. “Right.”

Merlin can’t help but be a bit disappointed at that lackluster response, and he is just opening his mouth to- to do what, he doesn’t know. Maybe to brush the moment off or to demand something more, or to tease Arthur, he won’t know until the words fall from his mouth- but before he can make a sound Arthur explodes into speech in front of him.

“ _ Gods _ , Merlin, what are you  _ doing  _ to me?” 

Arthur moves forward, almost predatorily, but Merlin stands his ground out of surprise. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to and so he does nothing but stare as Arthur smacks his palms against Merlin’s chest. Not hard enough to push him over but enough that he feels it. Enough that Merlin is forced to meet his eyes and see the depth of emotion in Arthur’s. 

“Why do you insist on being the most stubborn, aggravating, absolutely infuriating person I know?”

“Arthur-”

“You come into my life out of nowhere and somehow entrench yourself so deeply that I can’t go a blasted hour without thinking about you, nevermind a day, or week or more! How is it that a servant can cause a prince to prioritize him over everybody else? I was willing to break the law for you within a month of us knowing one another, Merlin.” His voice drops slightly. “I stood up to my father for you. I’ve never been able to do that for anything except the welfare of all of the people in Camelot, but for you… I didn’t even hesitate.”

Merlin stops trying to interrupt him. Instead his voice disappears as Arthur commands all of his attention with what he is saying.

“And when you told me you had magic I thought- that was it. You’d put me under- under some sort of spell, an enchantment, and that’s why I felt the way I did about you. You’d used your powers, and so that’s why I was yours to command for nothing but the reward of your own happiness and safety. That’s why I made stupid jokes just to see you smile and pestered you all the time to have your attention. I thought that it was all a lie.

“But when you told me the truth and I made you go,” Arthur closes his eyes, heaves in a quick breath, and then looks away. “It made me realize all of that while you were gone. That I was willing to spare you when I wouldn’t spare anybody else. Protect you and lie to my father while possibly putting Camelot at risk, just so I wouldn’t have to watch you die. 

“Because I couldn’t, Merlin. I wouldn’t have been able to, I knew that from the second those words fell from your lips. Watching you be killed and doing nothing- it’s impossible, for me. And even though at first I was able to convince myself it was because of a spell of yours, the months went by and I-  _ those feelings didn’t go away _ . You were gone for years, farther than I ever wanted you to go, and still I missed you like a limb.”

“ _ Arthur _ ,” Merlin begs, unsure if he will be able to bear listening to the rest, but Arthur’s look makes him go quiet. 

“So that’s when I realized.” The king visibly recollects himself. “It was never a spell, or at least not a magical one. It was just you. You and me, always. And I realized I was in love with the servant I had banished.” 

Finally, with both of them breathless and staring desperately at one another, Arthur raises shaking hands to cup his cheeks. 

“I thought I would never see you again.” The words are a whisper. “You don’t know what it was like- the guilt I felt, the regret-”

“I know all about guilt and regret.” Merlin promises, never looking away. “I felt it everyday I lied to you.”

Arthur bites his lip briefly and though he looks pained his voice is soft. “I love you, Merlin. I don’t think I can stop. And I’m so, so sorry. For everything.”

“You prat,” Merlin sniffles, because he can only stop his tears from falling for so long. “Never start a love confession by yelling at the person, Arthur. I thought monarchs were taught courtesy and manners.”

Arthur smiles. “Insolent.”

Merlin smiles back. 

“Always,” he vows before finally moving closer to kiss the other man.

When they separate it is only far enough so they can rest their foreheads against one another. They share a smile and Merlin leads Arthur over to the side of the bed. He begins to undo the buckles and straps holding Arthur’s armour without a word.

Arthur clears his throat. “It’s been a while since we’ve done this.”

Merlin doesn’t point out that he’d helped Arthur undress only last night. Perhaps he meant taking off his armour specifically. 

Perhaps. Merlin allows him the benefit of the doubt.

“What, me taking care of you despite the fact that you’re a grown man?”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Yes, Merlin, that.”

“Hmm.” Merlin acknowledges, not even trying to hide the soft smile that is spreading across his face. “I’ve missed it.”

“Yeah.” Arthur lightly touches the underside of Merlin’s chin to direct his eyes up so their gazes meet. “Me too.”

Merlin’s lips open just as Arthur slowly leans forward to kiss him again. When they part, both of them are grinning soppily, though Merlin’s sure Arthur would have denied it if anybody else was to see.

“But I mean what I said,” Arthur says seriously after a few seconds. “Don’t ever risk your life for me again, Merlin.”

“I’ll stop that when you quit trying to sacrifice your life every chance you get.”

Arthur makes a frustrated noise as Merlin takes his breastplate to set it down and Arthur works on undoing his vambraces. “It was for Camelot, for you-”

“Don’t care.” Merlin rebutts childishly as he comes back to stand with him. “If it ever comes to a choice between you or me then I’m always going to pick you, Arthur. Every time.”

Arthur looks distinctly unhappy. “I hate that.”

“You’re the king,” Merlin replies before allowing himself to be more comforting. “But I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, I promise. And, though you might not know it, I am a pretty powerful sorcerer. Most people would think twice before threatening the things I love.”

“I’m not worried about most people, I’m worried about-”

“Arthur. You’re the king. There will always be people out there trying to weaken or kill you. There always has been, since the day I stepped foot in Camelot. But you can trust me.”

Arthur looks over at that. “You know I do.”

Merlin hides his pleased smile by glancing away. “Then trust me to keep us safe. Just like you do.”

It takes a few seconds but eventually Arthur relaxes and nods as the last of his armour comes off. “Okay. I can do that.”

“Good.” Merlin pecks him on the lips lightly. “Now come on. Let’s go to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! We just want to say one last time how thankful and overwhelmed and happy we are for all of you to have stuck with us through this story, and can we just say again how amazing your comments have been for us to read. Tay and I texted each other and freaked out over every single one, you guys are so awesome.  
> So much love went into this story and we really hope you all enjoyed it! There is an epilogue still to come, but we are both swamped with schoolwork (finals and such, y'all know the drill) so it might be a little later before we're able to finish and post it. Hopefully this is enough to tide everyone over until then.  
> Thank you again, we absolutely adore all of you, you're amazing.


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here it is! We are so happy that all of you decided to join us on this awesome journey!

“Look at what arrived this morning!” 

The excited exclamation is the first thing Arthur hears in the morning, and, of course, the words are spoken by Merlin.

He loves the man, but dear gods… sleeping in would have been nice. The night previous had been filled with talks among himself and his advisors about the legalization of magic, and by the time Arthur had retired to his and Merlin’s chambers it was well past the midnight hour.

The king groans and turns onto his back, blinking against the harsh morning sunlight. “What could you possibly be so happy about this early in the morning?”

Arthur throws an arm over his eyes in an attempt to block out the light but Merlin’s warm chuckle causes him to raise his head and glare at his lover. All he receives in response is an amused smirk, making him flop back down onto the pillows and sigh in exasperation. It seems as if his sorcerer will not be sparing him any extra sympathy today.

The younger man pads over to the bed and Arthur can feel the mattress dip beneath his weight as he crawls over to the king’s side. The blonde squints open an eye and is met with a gleeful grin coming from the brunette. He sighs again, louder this time, and Merlin’s grin only gets bigger. Suddenly a piece of heavy parchment is thrust in front of his face, so close that he can feel his eyes begin to cross. He sends a glance Merlin’s way but takes the paper nonetheless, straightening to sit upright and pushing Merlin away playfully as he does.

**You are Cordially Invited to the Union of**

**Guinevere Smith and Lancelot du Lac**

**On the 29th Day of This Month**

Arthur looks at Merlin, then back to the piece of paper, and then back to Merlin again. “Did you- did you really have to wake me up gods awfully early just to tell me something I  _ already know about _ ?”

Merlin raises his eyebrows, unimpressed by the king’s outburst, “First of all, it is not early at all, so stop being a prat, and secondI figured you’d be happy to see the invite, at least.”

“While I love our friends dearly, Merlin, I would also  _ love _ to still be sleeping.”

Merlin rolls his eyes and gets back off of the bed, walking over to the small table where their breakfast sits. 

“ _ Someone’s _ awfully grumpy this morning.” He grabs an apple and a chunk of bread and then, using his magic, floats the platter of food to Arthur.

The king sits up a bit more in bed, reaching out to take the tray from the magic’s grasp. His heart flutters a bit, watching the man he loves be so happy and comfortable around him. In the last few months, the sorcerer has been more open with his use of magic around Arthur, and he knows that it’s a trust that has not come easy to the younger man, especially after everything they have been through in years past.

Merlin must sense Arthur’s gaze on him, as he looks up and catches his eye, flashing him a small grin that Arthur has now realized is only ever directed towards him. The sorcerer shakes his head fondly at him, as if he knows exactly what Arthur’s thinking, and turns to start getting ready for the day ahead.

* * *

It’s only a few days later that Gwen comes to visit. She’s in the castle to bring together the last of her wedding preparations. Arthur has offered to host the wedding, seeing as her husband-to-be is one of his most loyal knights - at least that is the official reason.

The unofficial reason is, of course, that Guinivere and Lance are two of his closest friends and he would do basically anything for them, including hosting their wedding in his castle. That, and the fact that it is unfairly entertaining to watch Lance stress himself out over everything being perfect, while Gwen just watches fondly.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Gwen has been taking wedding planning with the grace of which she handled everything else in life. Lance, however, is a completely different story. The man has been on edge for weeks, snapping at anyone who did even the smallest thing wrong. While everyone close to the couple knows that this is only because Lance needs everything to go completely right, the other poor souls in his close vicinity aren’t so lucky. Lance wants to make his devotion and love to Gwen as clear as possible, and the one way he knows how to do that is by making sure their wedding goes as seamlessly as possible.

However, it is driving Gwen a little crazy, so lately she’s been seeking Merlin out for a moment of peace; and every so often, Arthur would join them.

Today is one of those days. Arthur finds the two of them tucked in a corner in one of the more empty corridors, probably well known to them from their days as servants in the castle.

“You know,” Arthur says casually as he approaches them, “People are going to start to talk with you two disappearing off together all the time.”

They separate a bit from where they’d been huddled close together and speaking in hushed whispers. Gossiping, most likely, Arthur knows, though he has learned better than to accuse them within the vicinity of being hit in chastisement.

Merlin smirks back at him. “Oh, did you not hear? Gwen and I have decided to run off together.” 

The twinkle in his eye belies the serious tone in which he speaks, and he looks ever the mischievous young man that Arthur has been enamoured with for years. For a moment Arthur feels his breath leave him.

However it’s only a moment before he recovers, and the king brings both his hands to his chest, above the spot where his heart lies, gasping in mock outrage, “my love and my most loyal friend? Whatever shall I do?”

Guinevere shushes them, giggling, “hush, both of you! Someone will hear you and actually  _ will _ think you to be serious.”

Arthur grins. “What  _ are _ you two really doing here? Don’t tell me you’re hiding from Lance again?”

Guinevere gives a small smile, “ _ Yes _ ! That man is driving me insane! I cannot wait for us to be married if only for the fact that he will hopefully  _ calm down _ .”

Merlin lays a gentle hand on her shoulder. “He is only acting this way because he loves you. He just wants everything to be perfect for you both.”

Blowing a breath between her lips, Gwen nods, and though her tone doesn’t change Arthur sees her face soften and her shoulders relax. “I know that, and I love him all the more for it. I just- I wish he would take a moment and realize that him being so stressed is causing the rest of us more worry. Especially me.”

Merlin glances at Arthur, worrying his lip, and the king wonders if he is thinking about all of the times that not communicating has led to tension within their own relationship. If anyone could give Lance and Gwen some advice in this area it is them. 

“Maybe you should talk to Lance about all of this. He loves you, Gwen. If he realizes how bothered you are about how he’s been acting, he might rethink his actions. He does not want to upset you; he’ll understand how you feel.”

Arthur nods in agreement, “Trust me, Guinevere,  _ not _ talking about these things will only lead to more stress.”

Gwen stands straighter abruptly and nods her head, decisive. “You two are right. I am going to go find Lance right now and tell him how I feel.” She starts to walk away but stops just as suddenly as she had started, turning back to the men. “Thank you, you both have been a wonderful help.” She runs back towards them, giving them both quick hugs, before going off to find her husband-to-be.

When Arthur turns toward Merlin, the sorcerer gives him a small little grin and Arthur can’t help but step closer and grab one of the sorcerer’s hands in his own. He brings his other hand up to brush along Merlin’s cheek. He steps even closer, still, and leans their foreheads together, whispering a little  _ hi _ into the space between them.

It’s taken them a while to get here in their relationship. Arthur hadn’t realized how concerned Merlin was with public displays, especially in the castle where servants he’d once worked with could pass by and see them at any second. 

It had surprised him when he’d finally squirrelled that piece of information out from the sorcerer a few weeks after the start of their relationship. As much as Arthur had grown and matured in acknowledging servants and giving them their dues since meeting Merlin, he still felt no embarrassment around them for anything they might see. He was their king and it was their job to be discrete. The only servant he was ever embarrassed around now was Gwen, and that was still light-hearted and friendly.

Merlin, however, had been anxious about parading his relationship with Arthur around in everyone’s faces, and it had taken the months between their battle with Morgana and Mordred and now for him to finally grow comfortable enough for stolen moments like this.

Merlin’s lips quirk into a tender smile, that same one reserved specifically for Arthur, and Arthur alone, while nudging his forehead against Arthur’s playfully in response. “Hi.”

“I missed you.”

The sorcerer grins. “You saw me just a few hours ago, Arthur.”

Arthur lets out a put upon sigh, “Those hours felt like  _ days _ . These meetings are dreadfully boring; I just want to legalize magic, it should not take this long or be so  _ hard _ . What good is being the  _ king  _ if I can’t just do what I want without a thousand hurdles to jump over?”

Merlin laughs softly at Arthur’s disingenuous grumblings. “Soon it will be over. I have faith in you, my love.”

The unwavering and unquestioning trust Merlin has in Arthur never fails to fill him with warmth, even when they’re teasing like this. Only a few short months previous, there had been a rift between them that had felt a million miles wide, but now, everything just feels…  _ right _ . 

He knows that soon it will be him and Merlin having the wedding, even if he has not yet asked the sorcerer to marry him. 

_ Soon _ .

Arthur changes the subject, refusing to allow his thinking to run away with him (as this certain train of thought has in the past). “Have you eaten yet this afternoon?” 

He can feel more than he can see Merlin shake his head no, and finally steps back from his lover. He keeps one of his hands interlocked with the other man’s hand, though, and tugs on it to begin leading him towards the kitchens. 

“Let’s go hunt something down. I’m done official business for the day and I propose we go have a picnic.”

Merlin gives him a huge grin, suddenly almost vibrating with excitement. “Oh! I would love that!”

* * *

In the days following Arthur and Merlin’s conversation with Gwen, the great hall in the castle has been decorated to the happy couple’s specifications. To celebrate the coming of spring, Gwen has chosen to forgo the traditional Pendragon colours of red and gold that usually filled the hall for light green and pink. Fresh wildflowers have been picked and are scattered all around on either side of the aisle, with petals charmed to fall down from the ceiling. The latter addition had come from Merlin, of course. When Gwen had seen the demonstration of that particular spell, she had squealed and practically knocked Merlin off of his feet in her excitement. It was - she proclaimed - one of her favourite parts of the wedding.

For his part, Lance has calmed down quite a lot, mostly due to the long and stern talking-to that had been given to him by Gwen. He seems to have been put at ease due to her reassurances that she would be perfectly happy to just marry him in their kitchen in front of two witnesses, and that the stress over their wedding being perfect is not something she needs (or appreciates) from him.

The last time Arthur had caught sight of Lance he’d been beaming and happily chatting away with anyone nearby, so the king knows his friend definitely wasn’t hurt by his fiancee’s words.

Guests had started to arrive at the castle in the days leading up to the ceremony, and Arthur, being the host of the wedding - and King of Camelot - has been busy greeting everyone and making sure all is going smoothly on his end of things. Thankfully there have been no incidents thus far and he’s hoping to keep it that way.

When Gwen and Lance’s big day finally arrives, it feels like it could not come sooner to those who are directly involved. So much planning has gone into it - it has been the first big event held since their battle against Morgana (since Arthur’s coronation, to be more accurate)- and everyone wants to make sure  _ everything _ is perfect for the happy couple. Almost everyone in Camelot knows Lance and Gwen, whether it be from Lance’s reputation as Arthur’s best knight or Gwen living in town. Everyone in the city seems to want to be involved somehow; the Lower Town is having a festival, most of Camelot’s nobles and knights have been invited to the actual ceremony, and servants have been given permission to join the festivities. The excuse for a celebration has overtaken them all and Arthur is more than willing to encourage it in this case.

Early in the morning, Merlin had left his and Arthur’s chambers to go see Gwen and wish her well, while also making sure there were not going to be any last minute changes to anything. Arthur has not seen him since Merlin had brushed a kiss to his forehead and left their room, but the wedding is due to start in an hour’s time, so he knows it will not be long before he’ll be able to lay eyes on Merlin again. As he makes sure all is well with Lancelot and the other knights, his mind drifts to what his own future holds, hopefully with a certain sorcerer by his side.

Arthur wants to marry Merlin one day. He knows this. Seeing two of their closest friends finally find their happy ending is only making him realize it all the more. He wants to marry him - and he wants to marry him  _ soon _ . If the recent years and battle have taught him anything, it is that he should never leave anything unsaid. He knows himself well enough to be fully aware that he will not be able to keep himself from spilling all these thoughts out into the open where Merlin will be able to see them. The best part about that, though, is that he’s not even afraid of the outcome. He knows that when the time comes, the two of them will get through it all together.

He’s brought out of his daydreams by Gwaine clapping him on the shoulder. “Alright, princess, let’s get this show on the road.”

Arthur rolls his eyes at the nickname that is now laced with fondness, but turns to Lance to indicate that he should begin to lead them all down the aisle. The other man nods, his smile so wide Arthur thinks it must be hurting his face, and turns, stepping through the large double doors that lead into the great hall. Heads turn towards the noise as Lance, Arthur, Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival all enter. As they get closer to the front of the hall, Arthur catches Merlin’s eye and the sorcerer gives him a brilliant grin. He’s dressed in a deep purple tunic, and he stands off to the side at the very front of the hall, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Lancelot and the rest of the men take their places at the front as well. Arthur goes to stand beside Merlin, while the rest of the knights line up between him and Lance. He watches as Gwaine and Percy exchange a look, one full of deeper meaning than Arthur understands, and he has to look away to hide his smile.

The quiet hum of the guests quickly falls silent as the doors open again, this time to display Guinivere. She’s absolutely beautiful, and Arthur feels tears prick in the corner of his eyes at how absolutely radiant and happy she looks as she walks down the aisle towards Lance. A quick glance towards the aforementioned man confirms what Arthur is already feeling himself; the man has tears streaming down his face and he looks as if he is struggling to keep from walking towards his bride as she makes her way towards him.

Gwen, upon closer inspection, also seems to have tears in her eyes, but seems to be doing a much better job of holding herself together than the rest of them. Her curly hair is braided away from her face, with a few tendrils framing it, but the true eyecatcher is her dress. It, just like the colours she chose for the wedding theme, is a pale shade of green with small pink flowers scattered throughout. The fabric itself seems to move as if blown around by an invisible breeze, and Arthur wonders if the mischievous sorcerer at his side has anything to do with it. There are also flowers on her veil, which is trailing behind her, and they are leaving blooms in her wake. That, Arthur knows, is definitely the work of Merlin, as he watches a pink wildflower seemingly bloom out of the carpeted aisle beneath Gwen’s feet.

She makes her way to the front of the hall at last, grasping Lance’s hands. His bigger hand holds her tightly, and Arthur knows, suddenly, that all of them are exactly where they’re supposed to be. 

He glances at Merlin beside him and sees the sorcerer watching the couple, eyes wide and face completely open and easy to read. Merlin looks happier than Arthur can ever remember seeing him, and it makes something in him settle.

Yes. They’re all going to be okay now. He can feel it. 

Unaware of Arthur’s internal epiphany, Gwen and Lance say their vows, and Arthur can confidently say that there is not a single person in that room that has a dry eye by the time they’ve finished. Having been emotional before the couple even began to speak, he himself is only about two seconds away from completely breaking down into tears.

He knows it’s not kingly of him, but he never thought he would be able to see this happen - for his friends to be happy and together,  _ finally _ . For  _ all _ of them to be happy with no looming threats or dangers, only the rest of their lives stretching out in front of them full of possibilities.

As Gwen and Lance take one another’s hands again and begin to walk out of the hall, Arthur looks towards Merlin. The younger man is already staring at him openly and fondly, wearing that special smile that he only ever gives to the king, and Arthur smiles back freely.

He reaches out his hand. Merlin takes it.

And the two of them follow Gwen and Lance out of the hall to begin the rest of their lives.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end!  
> we hope you enjoyed the fic in its entirety!! thank you so much for all your kind and sweet comments, and all the kudos; we couldn't be more grateful for the support <3  
> please let us know if you have any ideas for fics in this universe or any prompts that would fit well, we'd love to see them!! we're planning on adding to this universe and making it a bit of a series so let us know!  
> again, thank you so much and goodbye for now <3

**Author's Note:**

> We would like to invite y'all to come scream with us on Tumblr: yourstrulytaaay and percyjacksonfan3


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